AN: This story is one chapter ahead on my Patreon.
patreon.com/ryswell - link can be found in the story description or on my profile.
- - -
Deep base pounded at Miranda's ears. The martini glass sat on the bar, half-empty. She'd spent the better part of the last hour taking tiny sips, warding off advances from drunk patrons while she waited, waited, waited.
She'd snapped her teeth enough times that the low life trash of Chora's Den finally understood they had no chance with her. But the Cerberus operative could still feel their eyes on her. She could feel them leering. Miranda endured the indignity. She had her mission.
By now, the booming music and flashing lights had given Miranda a headache. It throbbed behind her eyes, pinching into her temples. Enough to make her wince.
Relief came in the form of a familiar sight. It was the woman Montes had arrived with, that Alliance officer who managed to get his attention first. Did that mean their "private meeting" was over?
The tall brunette had come out of the private booth first, looking disheveled. Her once neat and tight bun was now unkempt and her uniform was now far from the crisp, sleek attire she had arrived in. Miranda watched as the woman adjusted her bunched-up skirt, noting how she glanced around the club with an expression more fit for a self-conscious school girl.
It was obvious what had transpired between her and Montes in that private booth. Some patrons hooted and howled, some mocking, others sincere in their appreciation. The Alliance officer ignored them, holding her chin high as she marched towards the exit.
Miranda couldn't help but feel sympathy. You had to be willing to do anything to get an edge in this galaxy.
The Alliance woman departed Chora's Den. A few moments later, Miranda's target emerged from the very same booth.
Gabriel Montes, a giant of a man. His size could not be missed, even in the dim, pulsing lights of the club. His gate was brimming with confidence, satisfaction. So assured he was in his place on the food chain. He moved with the swagger of a man who just got laid.
Miranda found it obnoxious. A sneer pulled at her lips before she forced it down. Nevertheless, her blood was up with excitement. She slipped off the barstool and made her move.
"Agent Montes!" She called out, pushing through the crowd. The towering Spectre turned and saw her. Miranda closed the distance quickly. "Agent Montes, if I could have a moment of your time."
He really was a large man, Miranda noted as she got up close. He was more than a head taller than her - and that Alliance woman as well. His outfit was dark, his shirt snug to his chest and those massive arms. Montes looked down at her, interest glimmering faintly in his green eyes. Suddenly, Miranda felt very aware of her own attire, a white suit practically molded to her body. The material was snug to her chest, her hips, her legs. For the woman created to be perfected, it only made sense to take advantage of her looks. But now, with this specimen of strength looming over her…
His deep voice broke through.
"Sorry lady, I was just leaving."
He turned to go. Miranda reacted without thinking, reaching for his arm. She took hold of solid muscle. His eyes flashed back to her, narrowed. She drew her hand back quickly. Maybe too quickly.
"Please." Miranda composed herself. "It's regarding your recent connections to certain political and professional figures."
"I'm a Spectre. It's part of my job to network."
"You and I both know you do far more than network." Miranda pressed. She raised her chin, looking the man straight in the eyes. "Especially when it comes to women. And asari."
The Spectre's brow pressed into a thick line. Montes regarded her with a new sort of interest now. He turned to face her fully, crossing his arms. His very big arms. Miranda's eyes flicked down for a split-second, drawn to the way the muscle shifted and tensed under the skin. She forced her focus back up to his face. He was grinning now.
"You're not Alliance." He observed.
"No." She admitted. "My name is Miranda Lawson. I come to you representing my employer. A very powerful, very influential man. One who has a vested interest in putting Earth ahead."
Montes gave her another look over, now taking his time. This once over was less curious and more… appreciative. Miranda kept her expression an icy calm, letting the man ogle. As long as she kept his attention.
The benefits of beauty, I suppose…
"Alright." Montes gave a slight nod. He brought up one arm and his omni-tool blinked to life on his wrist. A moment later, Miranda's own sounded with a digital ping. "If you and your employer want to talk business, we can do that. But we'll do it another time. Right now I've got somewhere to be."
"Matriarch Benezia's presidium mansion?" Miranda watched Montes' face, seeking a flinch, a tell, anything.
The man only offered a sly grin.
"Exactly." He told her. So smug, so assured, so vexing. "Now, Ms. Lawson, if you'll excuse me…"
Gabriel Montes turned from her and made for the club exit. Miranda watched the brute of a man go. She stood amidst the dancers and drunkards of Chora's Den. Alone. Empty-handed… but for the contact info he'd sent to her omni-tool.
It wasn't nothing. But it wasn't nearly enough. Miranda needed more.
"Damn."
- - -
The atmosphere of Benezia's bedroom was much more relaxed than Chora's Den. No free-flowing alcohol, no booming music, no mixed scent of sweat and cum - yet. Nevertheless, Montes felt at home.
The Spectre let himself sink back into his cushioned seat, listening to the soothing tunes of modern Thessian jazz. Meanwhile, the Matriarch was getting changed in the next room - a walk-in closet that was larger than Montes' own living room. The asari's voice carried on out, rising over the faint jazz.
"An hour late." Benezia scoffed. "Blackmail me, coerce me into your bed, make me swear that fucking oath… the least you could do in return is arrive on time."
Her words came heated, dripping with exasperation. Just as Montes liked it.
"I'm here aren't I? Besides, the anticipation is part of the fun." So was stoking Benezia's ire. Getting the woman riled up always led to passion down the road.
"Pfft." Benezia snorted. Montes could only imagine the face she was making. "I should send you home with nothing. Oath be damned."
Montes had to smile. The empty threats were always adorable.
"Please. You've been looking forward to this as much as I have."
An indignant sound came through the open doorway. A moment later, Lady Benezia herself followed. She strode out into the greater bedroom, marching over to where Montes lounged. She came to a stop a few feet before him, hands resting on her hips. The striking beauty of her face was marked with vexation as she looked down at him.
The look was sexy, sure enough, but the woman's outfit was downright sinful. Benezia was wearing less clothing than the dancers back in Chora's Den. It was glittering black silk so scant that most of it was spent covering the asari's ample bosom. What little remained after that afforded the Matriarch only the barest amount of modesty.
Montes drank it all in. All that creamy, blue skin on display. All those generous curves spilling out into the open. Soft, lush flesh. Full thighs and wide, fertile hips. But nothing captured his attention more than that magnificent rack. Proud breasts swept forth, barely contained by those bands of black silk.
"The arrogance." Benezia sneered at him, twisting her hips slightly. Montes was captivated by the motion through the softness of her body. Few women possessed a figure that could compare. "Someday someone is going to put you in your place, human."
"I'm sitting right here. Take your shot, Ms. CEO."
The Matriarch's eyes flashed hot, incensed… but also interested. For a moment she said nothing, simply matching his gaze. Montes thought the woman might pounce on him right then… until she gave a little scoff and turned away.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Not yet." She cast a look back at him as she moved towards a holo-terminal at the far end of the room. Montes still found delight in watching the scantily dressed asari strut. Watching those hips move. Watching that lovely rear sway with each step.
While Montes' eyes were glued to Benezia's scrumptious ass, the woman struck a few keys on the holo-terminal. The music track turned from soft jazz to a deeper, pulsing beat. Montes felt the bass burrowing into his bones, the low notes slithering into his veins. It wasn't like the house music back at the club, meant to pound at one's ears. This new music was far more primal, far more carnal.
Benezia began to move. Slow steps, advancing on him, twisting her body as she went. Turning her hips this way, that way, letting herself get swept up in the flow.
It was a mating dance, Montes realized, watching the asari move. Bountiful blue curves were sent surging back and forth. Each sway was deliberate, measured, sensual. Designed to enthrall, entrance.
Montes sank back into his seat, watching, hungering. The music continued to pulse, rumbling through him. And Benezia matched the beat, attuned to it. Her flesh was one with the music, so mesmerizing as she stalked closer, closer, closer.
"You wanted a performance, had me go through all this trouble…" Benezia's voice was sultry, sweltering, and colored with delightful scorn. She was so close now, writhing before him. So close he could reach out and touch her. When he tried, she slapped his hand away. "So now, you wait."
The heat in her voice, the blistering look in her eyes, had the Spectre's cock surging with hot blood, twitching madly. The rod swelled in his pants, bulging against the material. Benezia's eyes dropped down to his groin, taking a quick look at the length pressed against his inner thigh. Montes offered a wolfish grin.
"Yes, ma'am."
Lady Benezia narrowed her eyes, saying nothing. The music kept flowing, pulsing. The Matriarch flowed with it, winding her body like a serpent. Twisting, swaying, hips here, tits there.
She closed her eyes, her face becoming a mask of calm. Perfect tranquility fixed over the mouth-watering appeal of that grand set of tits, the feminine swell of her bare belly, the delicious width of her hips and thighs.
Benezia turned, putting her back to Montes, now giving him another splendid view of her rear. Her ass was a blue moon, as pleasing and bountiful as her bosom. Perfectly rounded cheeks swallowed up the thin strip of fabric that formed her thong, leaving all that blue flesh bare. Each turn of her hips had her buttocks swaying back and forth in pendulus, hypnotic motion. And higher, Montes could admire the dimples just above her ass, the lines of her back, the muscles faintly visible just under the skin, working and shifting.
The Matriarch turned again, facing him now. Her eyes were open, sharp and steely. Her hands drew down her neck, down over her breasts, down her exposed tummy. Plentiful curves wound and twisted like a river.
"You have a talent for dancing." Montes finally said.
Benezia slowed but didn't stop. She raised a brow at him.
"Hm. I'll choose to take that as a compliment. It's one of the benefits of a long lifespan: ample opportunity to develop a multitude of skills."
"I'd say you're pretty developed." Montes observed. His focus was pointedly below her neck.
The dancing asari snorted. She inched her swaying body closer.
"Crass. But true. We asari are known to become more shapely with age. And more beautiful."
She was standing right between his outstretched knees, her magnificent figure looming over him. Tempting him. Taunting him.
Benezia let her head fall back - her chest pressed forth, stretching out the black fabric of her top. Her nipples had pebbled, Montes could see, now poking out through the thin silk. The man's focus was fixed there, unwavering. The asari let out a long sigh.
"Goddess. The routines I used to perform to these tracks…" Benezia drew her hands back to her throat, pushing her breasts upwards as she reminisced. Blue flesh pressed together, almost spilling free. Montes saw and craved. "I was a maiden back then. Much more limber."
She met his eyes as she spoke. There was a challenge there. Montes could taste it.
"I wish I could have seen it. Nezzie's wild years." His voice was rough, almost a growl.
Benezia made a sound, soft and light. Not quite a laugh, but close. She was practically in his lap now. The asari slid a knee forward, pressing it into the man's groin. Not hard, but just enough pressure to tease his swollen cock.
"The artist, Dreva T'Mavi, once DJ'd at one of my shows." Benezia told him. "For the finale, I fucked her right there on stage. You know she still makes music?"
The savage side of Montes' soul was howling mad. Ravenous, raving, desperate for a bite of juicy, blue flesh.
"Nezzie."
"Yes?" Her tone was light, lovely, and knowing.
"Get that pretty blue ass over here."
Benezia's eyes lit up. At her lips played the faintest of smiles. Her hands fell to her sides and she took her knee from his crotch, pulling back. But she kept moving her body, dancing slowly, sensually. Winding those curves back and forth, back and forth. She drew away, away, away.
"No." She told him plainly.
"No?" Montes rose from the cushioned seat, frothing blood pumping through his chest, his arms, his legs, his cock.
The asari showed no fear. Her eyes were brimming with excitement now, positively gleeful. She drew back even further, way out of his reach. She moved away from Montes… and towards the massive, four-post bed.
"You want me? You can come get me." She challenged him. Beckoned him.
Montes felt his cock stir, watching Benezia slowly crawl back onto the sheets. His balls were aching, boiling with seed. Ready to spill, ready to shoot. His heart pounded, ringing in his ears. Demanding only one thing.
The towering human advanced. He wasn't seeing red. He was seeing blue.