spicyshimmy:

kassa-fabrication:

i’m so sorry shepard and garrus this came out not good forgive me please pokey turian smoochies ;;;;

FIVE WAYS TO KISS A TURIAN

one.

‘Is this supposed to be so…moist?’ Garrus asks.

‘It probably wouldn’t be if I wasn’t bleeding,’ Shepard replies.

‘Sharp lips are sexy on Palaven,’ Garrus says.

two.

Shepard knows that face. Every minor shift. When Garrus is laughing—on the inside. When he doesn’t find a non-joke all that funny. When his brain’s screaming shit shit shit just like Shepard’s heartbeat is pounding out the same. Fear. Adrenaline. Humor. Frustration and affection. They’re practically all the same thing.

But when you get close enough, you lose perspective. And focus. You can’t see. Blinded by the need, the desire, the proximity. He has to kiss Garrus’s mouth a little harder, just to make sure, but…

Yeah. Yeah, Garrus is smiling.

three.

They’re all about targets, bull’s-eyes, x marking the spot, until it comes to each other. Then, for whatever reason, they start shooting off center. Distraction, maybe.

Or they’re just plain dumb.

Only it makes sense when Shepard’s mouth falls against this old scar—like face paint, even—the reminder that, once upon a time, there was a Vakarian without a Shepard, and it left its mark on rough skin, what a turian heart is made of.

four.

‘No,’ Shepard says, ‘it can’t wait for your God-damn calibrations.’

five.

Scoped and dropped, Shepard thinks.

My favorite spot in the galaxy, Shepard thinks.

His voice is all sexy-like, Shepard thinks.

This is how races learn they aren’t poison to each other, Shepard thinks.

Maybe it’s hard to digest. Maybe it takes time. Maybe it’s their only shot at forever.

Scar tissue’s original, but a skin graft is external. Something from somewhere else that knits into flesh, that becomes a part of you over time.

And under Shepard’s mouth, Garrus Vakarian’s grinning.