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The Interlude
It was supposed to be a distraction, a way to soothe frayed nerves and lift the weight of past decisions from his shoulders for a little while. When Saren had been a young man, years ago just months after his brother’s death, the particular one he wanted would have been much easier to obtain. A touch to Ieryan’s bared skin or even a certain look would have given him what he needed: a night of uncontrolled passion that he could just give himself over to, stop thinking, stop hurting. For just a little while stop being him. In retrospect, Saren should have realized that his former lover was still the only man that could do that for him. Of course it would have made the events of his night seem even more like a slap to the face than they already were.
He’d been so stupid about the whole thing. He’d met Pollux in person once, traded words and touches, agreed to meet later and trade even more. Saren needed someone that could lift away his burdens, remove the guilt of leaving Desolas to die and fill the void left behind on that wretched anniversary. Like Ieryan had. Like Saren knew he needed on a more regular basis but denied himself time and time again. Out of a need for complete control that was marrow deep, out of pride and an irrational fear of letting go of himself. Saren had thought he was ready to give up that particular type of power, he’d wanted to, like when he was younger and the Ieryan could fell him with a few words. (But in his need he misplaced his trust.) Pollux had taken the control away and it wasn’t what he’d wanted. It wasn’t from who he wanted, Saren could admit that now. It wasn’t anything near to what it had been, when despite being facedown or some other weaker position, he’d felt safe and cared for.
At first, the power and dominance Pollux had emanated was intoxicating, refreshing and a little bit fun. Saren didn’t mind being roughly handled or bitten, he even liked it, but then Pollux had forced his head back and torn into his skin. He’d voiced his discomfort with a light warning but the larger man had grabbed his waist hard and shoved him back. Forced an armored knee between his legs so hard that Saren hadn’t been able to breathe past the pain. But the heat of arousal had spread outward from his groin and Pollux had licked his mouth while pushing his hand into Saren’s pants. It had felt good, being touched by someone that matched and surpassed his aggression, so he’d acquiesced for the time being.
Things went downhill from there. Just as Saren had begun enjoying himself, Pollux had crossed the line by turning him face-first to the wall and trying to push his pants to his knees. An overwhelming and surprising flash of panic had Saren releasing the iron grip he kept on his biotics, throwing Pollux off of him before things escalated any further. The other man may have been a bastard but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d run the second Saren’s biotics had flared outward, turning the room pale blue. Long minutes passed before his heart stopped racing and the panic had subsided. The emotional weight on his shoulders, the pain of abused groin plates and torn flesh remained.
He’d never felt like such a fool as he did in that moment, he couldn’t believe he’d been so careless either. For fuck’s sake, he’d know Pollux less than forty hours and he had been about to let him do something he hadn’t allowed anyone else to do since…
Since that last night with Ieryan before everything had unraveled. Saren’s throat and upper chest grew hot and slick with blood and he found a rag to staunch some of the bleeding. His side burned. Memories of his affair with Ieryan took root in his mind and wouldn’t let go. The much older man had always made him feel safe, even at his worst moments.
The priests had an unbreakable grip on his ankles as they pulled him down into the dark. Their talons cut through his armor like it wasn’t there, into his skin, his muscles, ripping and tearing until there was only bone. He screamed, for all the good it did him. Then Desolas was there and-
A hand shook his shoulder and a tired voice whispered into his ear with comforting harmonics. “It’s just a dream love. Just a dream, I’ve got you.”
Saren turned toward the voice and wrapped himself around the body it belonged to. Ieryan pet his fringe and murmured assurances until he fell back to sleep.
It was supposed to be a distraction; not a disaster. But at least Saren had learned who he really needed. He’d collided with Nihlus as he left his room, nearly knocking the both of them down. Saren hadn’t been able to handle his protégé in that moment, not with what had almost happened and not knowing that the young man would have watched it all unfold through the security system. Nihlus was always watching him fuck other men, not that he’d ever cared about that. Saren had hoped the newly named Spectre would make some move, show some visible sign of his attraction. When he didn’t Saren had put that possibility out of his mind and messaged Pollux. Then things had exploded out of his control.
Nihlus’ confession of voyeurism spilled out in a single breath and was drenched in the tones of worry and pure concern. Then he’d wanted to know if Saren was injured. The young man would have seen if he’d been damaged physically so it was apparent he was asking about the emotional. Saren could have laughed had he not felt so used and raw and vaguely unclean. The look Nihlus gave him implied that he knew and it was all suddenly too much. Knowing that Nihlus had witnessed him being overpowered and sensing that the young man wanted to protect him. Not just from situations like with Pollux or even in the field, but from himself too...Saren had snapped. He’d taken his student’s throat into his hand, shoved him hard against the wall at his back and squeezed like he was trying to crush the fragile windpipe. He’d warned him off, some nonsense about not wanting his concern and certainly not needing it. Nihlus had grabbed at his wrists, his green eyes frantic and his voice full of panic as he’s apologized. He gave that dark skinned throat one last squeeze to hammer home his point and then let go.
It was a lie. An absolute lie. Nihlus’ concern meant more to him than he would ever let on but he’d pushed the younger man away from him with the same desperation Saren wanted to use to pull him in. Because if he hadn’t, he knew he probably wouldn’t have let Nihlus go.
He was in too vulnerable a state, both the assault and Desolas’ death too clear in his mind for him to make any decisions regarding his protégé and his desire for the younger man. By the end of it, Nihlus had stood there terrified of him and Saren left before he made the matter worse. Before he dragged Nihlus into his room and corrupted him just for a few minutes of pleasure and peace. His student deserved so much better than he would have been able to give in that moment. At least Ieryan knew what to expect from him.
+_-_-_-_-_+
It was a heavy thumping noise that woke Sparatus from the sleep he’d fallen into while lounging on his couch. Being the highest representative for his species other than the Primarch of Palaven was an exhausting avocation and more nights than not he dropped in places other than his bed. Waking up on his couch with a crick in his neck and stiff joints was nothing new, but being woken by someone actually knocking on his apartment door rather than paging the intercom or ringing the bell was uncommon. Of course, he’d been tired enough that he had probably slept through the quiet tones of a doorbell.
Sparatus pulled his weary frame off the cushions, the stiffness and discomfort reminding him of his age. He crossed through his living room and foyer to answer the door... where he found the last person he wanted to see gracing his threshold.
“What are you doing here?” He demanded of the pale turian standing in the hallway.
Saren Arterius met his eyes with some unknown expression. “I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” Sparatus allowed distain to enter his tones to hide the spark of nervous confusion. Saren was not the type of man that made casual visits to past lovers.
“No reason.”
He drew his mandibles in against his jaw to stop their angry fluttering. Having Saren at his door was a serious inconvenience when all he wanted to do was sleep. “I don’t want you here. Leave now.”
The Spectre widened his stance and then shifted his weight onto one foot. “I’m not here to antagonize you Ieryan.” He said and he did actually sound sincere. “I need something I can only get from you.”
Sparatus crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “It’s a little late in the evening for subterfuge Saren.”
“It’s not information I’m after.” Saren’s primary tone was conversational, but there was an undercurrent of something he hadn’t heard in a while. He put a hand on his hip and leaned into it, looking at Sparatus out from under half closed eyes that gleamed with a certain type of knowledge.
If he didn’t know better, and he did, he’d think Saren was flirting with him. His mandibles dipped a bit in surprise and he blinked away the mental image of Saren much, much younger and how he had looked when he was satisfied. “…If you’re alluding to what I think you are, no, it’s been years since we-“
“I need you.” Saren stated with a nonchalance that was dissonant to the memory it inspired.
The boy breathed hard against his throat and the trembling hand at his waist slid lower to envelop his shaft, squeezed and guided him. The feeling of warm breath and then teeth on his skin was followed by a lust filled voice in his ear. “I need you.”
It was one of the few Sparatus was still fond of, their first night together after months of dancing around each other. It was probably his favorite recollection of their time together, when the relationship had been new and rewarding and so real, before the lies had come to light. Of course Saren would know what that sentence would make him think of, he’d been betting on it and now he took a step closer to Sparatus.
“No, damn it, no.” He wouldn’t do that again, not after how things had ended, not after how much time had passed.
“Please?” Saren asked, his mandibles tilted at an odd angle and his otherwise passive expression turned into something reminiscent of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar who then decided to just ask for it but was still certain of denial.
Sparatus had a blinding surge of anger. “That word has never left your mouth sincerely.” He hissed. “You couldn’t be less convincing.”
Saren took another step forward, putting him fully into Sparatus’ personal space. The Spectre was so close he could smell him, musk and sweat and a tiny bit of sour fear.
Fear? Of what?
“I mean it this time Ieryan.” He insisted, again using Sparatus’ given name as a way to get under his plates. Something he’d always been good at.
He shook his head in the negative, clamping down on that disappointed trill in his chest because he wanted Saren to mean it but he didn’t want the other man to know that. “No you don’t.”
He’s not that same young man, Sparatus told himself. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.
Saren stepped even closer and grasped at his elbows, pulling until Sparatus had to uncross his arms. The Spectre tried to lace their fingers together. Sparatus closed his hands into fists. “Did you know you’re the only man I’ve let do that to me?”
“Saren,” He jerked out of the Spectre’s grasp, trying to shake his head free of yet another memory.
“Am I your first?”
Silver eyes with the barest hint of blue gazed up at him earnestly. “Does it matter? “
Saren persisted, invading his space even more, standing chest to chest with him. “You’re the only man I want like that. Let me come inside.”
“No,” He said but the Spectre made another grab for his hands. Sparatus found himself too weak to resist, discovered that he was already giving in. He’d wanted this exact thing for so long, dreamed about Saren coming to his door and asking for another chance. More often than not, Sparatus didn’t turn him down. Just like now, he wanted to, knew he needed to and couldn’t.
Why the hell was he even here, after nearly three decades of almost zero contact outside the Council chambers? There was something wrong about this… something he couldn’t put his finger on. Saren had never been the type of man to come on so strongly when it was clear his affections were unwanted. I should tell him no, it’s not worth the pain, not again.
“Ieryan…” Saren whispered, his subharmonics gently alluring. “Let me prove it to you.”
Sparatus opened his mouth to tell Saren where to go and just how to get there but stopped when he noticed the blood on the Spectre’s neck. The wound in the shape of teeth in the spot no casual lover would ever dare to mark, it was too personal a place. Sparatus had never bitten anyone there and he couldn’t image Saren letting someone do it to him. Blue darkened the collar of his shirt and had seeped into the cloth, leaving a haphazard pattern that ended at a large tear in the fabric. The tear spanned Saren’s side from the bottom of his ribs to the top of his hips, the pale flesh of his waist was exposed and he thought he saw faint talon marks there too.
Something happened to him. He realized, catching Saren’s turbulent stare. He wants my help. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.
He looked from one end of the hall to the other without thinking. “Fine, get in here before my neighbors see you.”
“Still ashamed of me?” Saren asked and there was genuine hurt in his undertones.
“No.” I’m ashamed how much I still want you.
The Spectre ran the back of his fingers along one of Sparatus’ mandibles and stepped past him into the apartment. “Thank you Ieryan.”
He didn’t mean to, but he leaned into that touch with an unheard subtonal whimper.
The holo-lock turned red and Sparatus couldn’t help the sudden feeling of being trapped but he tried not to think about it. Saren stood in the middle of his living room, gazing down at his couch and the pillow he’d started keeping there. It rarely got used but when it did it helped alleviate some of the discomfort of passing out in the living room.
“Are you sleeping here?” Saren asked.
“Sometimes.”
The Spectre nodded, wincing slightly as the wound on his neck pulled.
“That’s really deep,” He gestured toward the bite, and it was, it actually appeared to still be seeping blood. “Why haven’t you put medigel on it?”
“I hadn’t noticed it was that bad.” He said, sounding completely unconcerned but Sparatus saw the slight inward twitch of his mandibles.
He’s lying. He’s never outright lied to me. “You…should let me take care of it before it scars.”
Saren actually shuddered from head to foot and Sparatus realized it was because of that bite that he was here now. He’d run from whoever had torn his shirt and tried to mark him. Sparatus couldn’t imagine anyone stupid enough to harm him in such a way, or Saren even letting someone get that close
The Spectre pulled a packet of medigel from his pants’ pocket and tossed it to him. “Be quick about it then.”
Mending the bite took seconds but it brought Sparatus within inches of Saren, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his breath, smell his skin. He was strangely relieved to find that the scent was the same smoke and spice it had always been. Sparatus knew he should’ve stepped away when he was done but he couldn’t make his legs move.
“What happened?” He asked the younger man quietly, not entirely expecting an answer but hoping for one.
He shrugged but it looked forced. “There was someone earlier tonight…” Saren pointedly didn’t look at him. “But he wasn’t you and I…I couldn’t let him have me like that.”
It was a moment before the confession and the hesitant way it was spoke became clear. To say he was shocked would have been an understatement, especially if Sparatus were to believe he was the only man to have even been inside him. The possibility that Saren would let someone he knew so little about top him sexually was unfathomable.
“Did he…?”
The Spectre snorted. “The bite was the worst of it.” He said. “The bastard didn’t know I was a biotic.”
Sparatus’ mandibles twitched wearily in amusement, instantly understanding what Saren wasn’t saying. “Why are you here Saren?”
“Do you know what today was Ieryan?” Saren asked as he wandered past him and out of the living room.
“Your student was inducted today.” Sparatus answered right away. He had come home an hour after the ceremony, feeling tired and drained.
Of course the Spectre wasn’t actually wandering about aimlessly, he had a destination in mind. His heart started beating faster when he realized just where Saren was leading him. Aside from the bath and kitchen, there was only one other room in the apartment.
He’s certainly confident in his ability to seduce. Sparatus thought with an edge of bitterness.
The bed was still unmade from the last time he’d managed to fall into it, blankets cascaded off the sides and the pillow was already on the couch. Saren stooped and trailed his fingers along the mattress before turning to look at him.
“It’s the day I let my brother die.”
Sparatus swallowed. General Arterius’ death twenty-seven years ago was the event that had led Saren to the Citadel and subsequently, his bed. There were a handful of individuals that knew the actual events of the general’s demise within Temple Palaven: the Primarch during 2157, the current Primarch, himself, and Saren. Of all those Saren was the only one who knew all that had transpired. He’d told Sparatus a few details he’d left out of the official report, back when he’d needed to talk about it so that he could begin healing.
He’s not the same man he was then. Sparatus told himself firmly for the second time. He’s different now, colder, harder. He’s not the young man I loved and he never will be again. I need to stop hoping that he will.
“Saren,” He began. “You did what was needed.”
“I did what was expected.” The Spectre countered vehemently.
Sparatus held up his hands in a placating manner. “You don’t need to convince me.”
“I know,” Saren seemed to collapse in on himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees and he thought he saw the slightest tremble in the fingers. “Sometimes I think…”
“What?”
He shook his head once. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t change that decision no matter how much I want to.”
Sparatus shifted on his feet awkwardly as Saren stared at him like he could see through him. He didn’t know how to reply, whether to agree and reassure him or stand there silently. They were both right in essence; Saren had done what was needed and what anyone would have been expected to do. But Spirits why was he burdening this on him? There was someone else much closer to the man (now, anyway) who made a much more logical choice for things so private.
“Why aren’t you with your protégé?”
Saren looked at him with confusion. “Why would I be with Nihlus?”
“I assumed you and he were-“Saren had had many lovers over the years, more than Sparatus knew about in any case. Imagining that he and the new Spectre were sleeping together wasn’t much of a mental leap.
“Fucking? No.”
“Oh.” That was a surprise. He’d seen Nihlus watching Saren when he’d thought no one was looking, seen the interest and the desire there. He was a good-looking turian, Sparatus certainly found him attractive but not enough to seduce the much, much younger man. And it wasn’t like Saren hadn’t looked at him the same before. ”The two of you seemed very close.”
“I dare say he’s my friend more than he’s my student.” Saren stood again, striding toward Sparatus purposely.
Not that you don’t want him though. He observed silently. Why are you here with me and not him? We haven’t spoken about…about this in decades. But here you are and here I am not kicking you out.
“He’s not what I want right now.” The Spectre whispered and his tones were full of seduction and confidence.
Sparatus ignored the telling increase of his heart as the man moved even closer and lifted his hands to rest on his shoulders. Saren was too close for comfort and looking at him the same way he used to when things between them were exciting.
“I want you Ieryan.” The Spectre said and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss that stopped his breath. While he stood there completely frozen from shock, Saren was able to taste him fully.
No, no, no. Sparatus pushed him back, shoving aside the flare of desire when his hand encountered bare skin at that rip in Saren’s shirt. His protest nearly got stuck in his throat at the look of obvious hurt that came over the man’s face before it vanished just as quickly as it had come. Sparatus buried his own hurt, his own lust for Saren that had never left no matter how often he’d tried to make it leave. He’d already taken advantage of the man once, never mind how that had turned out, but he wasn’t going to do it again.
“You can’t have me.” He said firmly, putting all his considerable resolve into his harmonics so the Spectre wouldn’t attempt to change his mind.
Saren’s expression stayed at that same impassivity and his hands dropped from Sparatus’ shoulders like they were cut from strings. “I see.”
He didn’t reply, didn’t move, his hand burned from where he’d touched the Spectre’s skin and his mouth tingled with his flavor.
“I apologize that I put you through this again.” Saren said quietly and honesty laced all his tones. “I’ll go if that’s what you want.”
If he were honest with himself (as he tried to be on principle), Sparatus neither wanted him to stay nor go. He knew what he should do was to make Saren leave. As amazing as he may smell and look on his bed with the scent of desire all over his skin the man would bring him nothing but pain. Saren wasn't himself, everything about this was wrong and come morning they would both regret all of it. Too many years had passed. If it had been less time, if he thought Saren would change at all, be more faithful, perhaps... But it wasn't, and he wouldn't.
Sighing, Sparatus sat next to the Spectre and mimicked the position of resting his palms on his knees. Spirits damn me. “If you don’t want to go, then you can stay but if you try to touch me like that again I’ll-“
“I’ll behave myself Ieryan.”
Sparatus let a moment pass, trying not to think about the sexual need that still burned in his nerves and fighting the compulsion to pounce on Saren. He’d held the younger man underneath him a hundred times and easily more than that. More times than not it had even been in the same bed they both sat on now. Sparatus could remember every second of every encounter, every touch and kiss and holding Saren tightly when they’d made love. He stood in a hurry, nearly throwing himself away from the Spectre to keep from repeating those moments.
“You can have the bed, I’ll-“
Saren looked up at him with his mandibles tilted incredulously. “I’m not going to molest you in your sleep.”
He thought about the taste of Saren’s mouth, the heat of his skin…how difficult it had been to push him away. How difficult it was to stay away. It’s not you I’m worried about. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.” Sparatus forced himself to say with finality.
Saren’s hands closed and opened on the bed, closed and opened again before he wrapped his arms around himself and leaned over his knees. “I don’t want to be alone.”
That sour, cloying smell of fear wafted toward Sparatus, bringing with it other memories. A good fifty percent of their nights together had been spent with Sparatus trying to soothe Saren while he’d tossed, turned and thrashed around trying to escape from whatever nightmare was haunting him.
“You think you’ll have one of you dreams,” It was more statement than question.
“It’s been a stressful day.” Saren told him dryly, then he sighed. “Yes and I don’t want to…be alone when it happens.”
Sparatus knew it cost Saren a lot to admit his fear but he also knew the man loved to manipulate others. It was entirely possible the Spectre could be trying another tactic to get what he wanted. As much as he still wanted Saren in that way, Sparatus wasn’t about to give in to old desires. Frankly he was too old for that kind of thing. But if it wasn’t some sort of ploy, if Saren was actually reaching out to him based on what they’d had, Sparatus wouldn’t add to the hurt by rejecting him now.
He sighed with defeat and ran a hand over his fringe, too tired to give this anymore thought or protests to the matter. His decision was made; Saren would stay. “Let me get you a shirt that’s not ripped then,”
Standing and moving forward a few steps, Sparatus rifled through his closet until he found a shirt that would fit him. It just happened to be a shirt that Saren had left behind. But once the fabric was in his hands, his resolve faltered and then nearly crumpled when he heard the rustle of cloth and knew that the Spectre was sheading his ruined shirt. Sparatus couldn’t stop himself from turning to look.
He hasn’t changed much physically, he looks absolutely the same. Maybe a little firmer in some areas. Like his stomach…oh spirits, stop looking at him before you do something you can’t take back. Sparatus swallowed reflexively at the images that filled his mind. Things they had done before, over and over, and the things they’d never gotten around to doing. This is a bad idea. The smartest thing I could do would be to make him leave.
The longer Sparatus looked at him, noticing the way his shoulders slumped and the glimmer of defeat in his eyes made that impossible. Saren was putting himself at great personal risk, allowing someone, even Sparatus, to see his weakness. To only have hope and their past together as reassurance that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. The simple truth was that he had come to Sparatus because he was the only person Saren could trust with anything.
When he’d managed to stop staring, he handed over the shirt. His fingers tingled where they’d brushed Saren’s and he jerked his hand back.
“Thanks,” The man acknowledged quietly and slid into the garment before getting comfortable on the mattress.
Sparatus tried not to think about the fact that Saren had turned his back, leaving himself open, curled into a loose ball with his arms around his middle and his head tucked toward his chest. It was the very picture of vulnerability and Sparatus shoved down the pang of longing that demanded he offer some kind of comfort. But he just crawled onto the bed, lying on his back as far away as he could, the edge of the mattress under his shoulder.
He stared at the ceiling and willed sleep to take him. Minutes ticked by in silence and Saren eventually unraveled and stretched out on his back too. Sparatus scooted closer to the bed’s edge to give him room and to keep that space between them.
“For Spirits’ sake Ieryan,” The Spectre muttered with exasperation. “You’re going to fall off.”
As Saren said it, Sparatus tipped just a little, his entire shoulder and part of his torso sliding off the bed. There was a brief moment of wild panic before a hand wrapped around his forearm and pulled him back, keeping him from crashing to the floor in a heap. A sheepish little trill escaped his throat as he resettled a bit closer to the other man. The Spectre let go of his arm slowly, his fingers dragging over the sleeve of his shirt.
“I don’t have to worry about your lover coming home and finding us in bed together, do I?” Saren inquired with flippant tones.
The remark stung although it shouldn’t have. Sparatus had certainly had intimate relationships since he and Saren had ended. He’d had any number of boyfriends, girlfriends and a few asari too. He’d loved others and been loved as well. Two decades was a long time no matter what angle it was viewed from and being alone for that entire period would have been ludicrous. Turians needed contact, they needed to connect with another on a physical and emotional level or they would deteriorate in more than a few ways. Sparatus wasn’t any different from others of his species in that aspect.
It was Saren’s frivolousness that hurt the most, like he’d expected that Sparatus had been alone and had been waiting for him the entire time. At his age, decent lovers were few and far between. Maybe it was because Sparatus hadn’t found anyone that affected him quite the same as Saren had. It wasn’t even that he’d loved the Spectre and been loved in return, he’d been able to more or less set that emotion aside. It was the physical, the memories of taking Saren hard or slow and feeling the younger man’s control of his biotics slip. That moment when he lost his tenuous hold and vicious dark energy danced over them without harm. Cackling and sparking, enhancing. No one since then had compared to that.
It was…It was knowing that Saren had countless lovers, knowing he always had while Sparatus struggled to find someone that made him feel wanted again. He’d thought he’d gotten over all this, moved on, healed his broken heart, but apparently not.
“Fuck you Saren,” He snapped and rolled onto his side, presenting his back to the Spectre as a way to shut him out. “Fuck you.”
Next to him, Saren sighed and muttered a reply. “I offered that already. You made yourself clear.”
“You don’t need someone to fuck you,” Sparatus snarled at him over his shoulder. “You need a damn hug once in a while.” Just not from me. “...I’ve taken advantage of you often enough for one lifetime.”
“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and Sparatus felt him shift onto his side as well.
The words were out of his mouth and there was no taking them back. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t said them, not when Saren lightly grasped his elbow and he flinched at the contact. The Spectre tugged at him until he had to turn back over and meet those puzzled silver eyes.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I took advantage of you,” He repeated, enunciating each syllable. “Time and time again while we were dating.”
Saren’s mandibles made minute rotations as he thought. “You did not.” He said at last, just as articulate.
For a moment Sparatus saw the Spectre as he’d been at eighteen; so young, the last living Arterius, utterly alone and visiting the Citadel for the first time. He’d worn the white armor of the Cabals proudly, his chest out and his shoulders back, his head held high. But speaking with him that first day, watching as he was commemorated for what he’d done at Temple Palaven, for the Hierarchy at large, Sparatus had seen the sadness in his eyes. He’d also, he was ashamed to admit now, seen a young man, a turian hero he’d wanted to bed.
“I did, you were all alone and grieving, looking for something to latch onto to keep from spiraling out of control. I made sure that something was me…because I’m selfish and I didn’t want anyone else to have you before I did. And once I’d had you, I didn’t want to share….”
Saren blinked but that was his only reaction. Sparatus found that he couldn’t stop speaking now that he was willing to admit to everything. The thought that he could meet his end one day with the secret still weighing down his spirit was terrifying.
“At first I didn’t care if I added to your pain.” He said, reaching toward Saren and then stopping himself when he realized what he was doing. “It was supposed to be a fling, a way for me to get what I wanted and- through the distraction of an affair- a way for you to heal. And then I got to know you, really know you and not that disguise you wear to protect yourself, and I … Never meant to fall for you.”
The Spectre was still quiet, his expression and the look in his eyes unreadable. Sparatus kept talking.
“The differences in our age and ranks wouldn’t have mattered were I not the Councilor and you were not…Cabal. There was far too much distance in that aspect of our lives for our relationship to have been accepted. The closer I got to you, the more I loved you, the more I realized we could never become anything but lovers, we could never have been mates. And I wanted that so much Saren but I knew we couldn’t without destroying both our futures. When I discovered you had other lovers… I used that to push you away. I thought it was better if you hated me.”
Sparatus felt lighter almost once all the words were out. All the things that had made it impossible to sleep for weeks after he’d ended things with Saren
“All this time,” Saren stated a few moments after he’d finished speaking. “I thought I was the one that pushed you away.”
He shook his head as much as he could with his cheek pressed into the mattress; they’d never retrieved the pillow.
The Spectre sighed and ran a hand over his fringe. “You know the humans have a saying; love conquers all.”
Sparatus glanced at him, wondering how the anti-human turian would even know such a thing. He hadn’t and he dealt with humans on a daily basis. “You and I both know that’s total shit.”
Saren barked a short laugh. “Of course it is.” He sneered. “You never loved me like you said you did.”
No, I just didn’t tell you enough. “I did, once, but I’ve put that behind me. As should you.”
“I have put it behind me.” The Spectre huffed snidely. “I was stating a fact.”
“You were stating your interpretation.” Sparatus countered and stared hard into Saren’s eyes. “I did love you, sometimes I even still love you…I just don’t like you.”
The younger man laughed and the air of tenseness between them began to evaporate. “I don’t like you either but it didn’t stop me from coming here tonight.”
Against his better judgment, Sparatus reached out and followed the length of Saren’s cheekspine with a fingertip. In that moment, there were a lot of things he wanted to say and more that he knew he shouldn’t. He pulled Saren’s head toward him and pressed his mouth to the man’s foreplate in a gentle kiss.
“I wasn’t at first,” He said. “But I’m glad you did. I think…I think we needed some closure.”
“We did.” Saren agreed. “As… enlightening as this whole experience has been, I can tell you need to sleep.”
Sparatus shrugged, that strange sort of neurotic energy of nervousness and arousal had started to wane and his eyelids were getting heavier. As the Spectre got comfortable at his side a thought occurred to him.
“Saren,” He murmured and jostled the other man with his shoulder. “What would you have done if I had turned you away at the door? What do you normally do on-on today?”
“It varies from year to year.” Saren told him, his harmonics unsteady with drowsiness. “Sometimes I drink or I find someone to fuck. Sometimes I treat it like any other day. If I happen to be on Palaven I go to the memorial and stare at his name.”
So he would have had no trouble finding some other way to occupy his time. Sparatus thought and was about to say as much to Saren when the Spectre spoke again.
“But today I couldn’t. I didn’t want to use someone to chase away those demons. I wanted… I wanted someone to use me and when that blew up in my face, as I should have known it would, I wanted someone that cared about me. I wanted you so here I am.”
“You really thought I was going to jump at the chance to fuck you when you showed up?” Sparatus demanded, his tones a cross of fury and disbelief.
Saren angled his head to look at him, study him for a moment and then to his surprise and confusion, the Spectre smiled warmly at him. “On the contrary Ieryan, you behaved exactly as I thought you would and as I’d hoped. Proof that you do actually care which is what I needed to know.”
The Spectre surprised him further by leaning forward and copying the gentle kiss to the foreplate. The action, the affection of it, left Sparatus speechless as Saren settled back down on his side and closed his eyes.
“Goodnight Ieryan.” He said and was instantly asleep.
It was a while before Sparatus was able to follow him. He laid there staring at his ceiling and at Saren for moments at a time. He’d certainly been played, just not in the way he’d expected.
+_-_-_-_-_+
He had his own nightmare shortly after falling asleep. He dreamed that he and Saren were in the Council Chamber and he had the Spectre shoved facedown on his desk. He’d fucked Saren hard, causing the tiniest sounds of pain and tears to trail down the man’s face. They hadn’t been alone. Sparatus’ fellow Councilors along with Nihlus and Desolas had watched from various positions around the room. When he woke, he was disgusted with himself and the depravity of his own mind, knowing in his heart he’d never hurt Saren. It was just the stress of the evening, the surprise of finding the Spectre at his door that had his unconscious mind warping and twisting old events, old fantasies. Sparatus curled around Saren once the frantic beat of his heart had ceased but he never managed to fall back to sleep.
It was a good thing in the long run as he was able to spot the signs of Saren’s impending nightmare. Sweat beaded along his throat and his pulse quickly began to jump under the surface of the skin. Then there were the quiet and fearful murmurs that left his mouth; words that weren’t truly audible and made no sense, just a deep thrum of worry and discontent. Sparatus moved closer in anticipation of uncontrolled muscle spasms, preparing to either hold him still or to just hold him.
Whatever Saren was dreaming, it was frightening and violent. The Spectre seemed to convulse, shifted onto his side, his back and then his other side. When Sparatus thought he heard the man whimper, he decided he’d seen enough. Gently he slid his arm under Saren’s shoulder, the way he’d used to when they were together, and pulled the bone pale turian against his chest. The Spectre struggled in his grasp for just a minute until Sparatus made a low toned sound of soothing. He could still see Saren’s eyes moving under the lids and knew the nightmare continued to play within his mind but it was obvious he’d calmed significantly.
Finally sure that there weren’t going to be any more bad dreams, Sparatus removed his arm from Saren’s shoulders and scooted back to put a little distance between their bodies again. The Spectre was too tempting to stay wrapped around for long, his pelvic plating was already too loose and there was nothing to be had from tormenting himself. Eventually he was lulled into sleep but the sound of Saren’s breathing syncing with his.
+_-_-_-_-_+
Morning brought with it yet another surprise. The Spectre hadn’t left before the day cycle began like he’d expected him to. He had simply lain next to Sparatus until he’d woken too and then Saren left the bed without a word. A few minutes later Sparatus met the younger man at his door, wondering just what to say and what his harmonics would voice that his words didn’t.
Saren reached out cautiously and took one of his hands before giving it a brief squeeze. “…Thanks.” He said and he even sounded sincere.
“You’re welcome,” Sparatus answered. “But don’t do this again Saren or I’ll do what I should have done and just throw you out.”
The Spectre flashed him a grin that he found himself returning. “I have one last thing I want from you before I leave.”
Caution and suspicious demanded he shoot the request down before Saren could even ask. “What is it?”
Saren took a small step toward him. “Can I kiss you goodbye this time?” He asked.
Knowing that he shouldn’t but wanting to anyway, Sparatus nodded and moved into Saren’s space until their chests just barely touched. There was a moment of hesitancy as they both waited to see who was going to actually initiate the kiss, the younger man’s eyes searching his before finally closing in submission that sped up his heart. Sparatus covered that last bit of distance, lowered his head and captured the Spectre’s mouth. Saren didn’t touch him other than to kiss him, or rather to be kissed by him as he let Sparatus lead. It lasted only a few breaths and then they separated, the younger man expressionless while he could feel himself smiling.
“Just so we’re clear-“
“We won’t be picking up where we left off.”
Sparatus nodded and gave Saren one last goodbye, one last touch over that long cheekspine and then let his hand drop away. “Goodbye Saren.”
“…Spirits be with you Ieryan.” The Spectre said and walked away.
End