Emily s Halloween Homework
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Joint VentureChapter 2: HOMEWORK free porn video
As soon as Simon returned to the privacy of his apartment, he brought up the extranet on his Omni-tool, searching the network for information on inter-species relationships. The first search brought up some rather unsavory results, it seemed that there were more people interested in the subject than he had assumed, but a small change to his search terms cleaned them up.
It didn’t take long for him to find a message board where people were discussing the subject and sharing tips. The pairings were as varied as the species being discussed, it wasn’t just Humans and aliens. Asari were by far the most coveted. The blue-skinned humanoids were capable of reproducing with any other species through some kind of genetic trickery that Simon couldn’t begin to understand. That made them popular partners across the board, especially for Krogan men, who had great difficulty conceiving with their own kind. There were posts by Turians, Salarians, Krogans, Humans, even a Volus who was trying to woo an exotic dancer who worked at a nightclub that he owned. How was that going to work? A Volus was half the height of an Asari, and they were confined to pressure suits.
The Asari had always rubbed Simon the wrong way. As undeniably beautiful and exotic as they were, they tended to use that fact to their advantage, and their thousand-year lifespans made even a lifelong relationship with a Human a fling in their eyes.
One thread caught his attention. It was a discussion about a Human woman who was trying to date a Krogan. Most of the replies were warning her of the dangers, as she was unlikely to make it out of an encounter with one of the seven-foot, one-hundred-and-fifty-kilo reptiles without a few broken bones. She had some quads on her, as a Krogan would have put it.
Another discussion that drew his eye concerned a relationship between a Quarian and a Turian. It seemed to be a far more popular pairing than Turian and Human, or Quarian and Human, likely due to the difficulties that dextro species had with levo amino-acids. A romance with a Quarian was even more complicated, as the species had been exiled from their homeworld by a race of killer machines, spending generations adrift in sterile spacecraft. Their immune systems had been ruined by their confinement, which meant that they had to wear special pressure suits in order to protect themselves. Even minor exposure to bacteria could result in life-threatening infections, which meant that skin on skin contact and the exchange of fluids was completely off the table.
Simon was interested to learn that sexual encounters with Quarians could be facilitated through a specialized suit modification that acted as a kind of built-in condom, the material providing an impermeable barrier between the two partners, while still allowing them to feel sensation. How much sensation was up for debate, it was hard to imagine feeling much of anything through a pressurized suit, but they had to take what they could get.
The conversation did provide some insight into Turian anatomy, at least. While their reproductive organs were a little more ... exotic than those of Humans, the males especially, they weren’t so different as to be incompatible.
Simon began to blush again as he imagined what Val might look like nude. According to the users of the board, the carapace-like exoskeleton that covered the faces and most of the torsos of Turians did not extend to their lower bodies. There were some sparse protective plates on their thighs, but below the belt, they were as naked as a Human.
His face only grew hotter as he read on, the various denizens of the forum sharing tips and facts. While Turians could feel limited sensation through their carapaces, one should focus their attention on the exposed, scaly skin. That was where they were most receptive, though it should be noted that the facial plates were more sensitive than those of the torso. The belly and inner thighs were erogenous zones, as was the neck, which was usually protected by the collar-like formation of their natural armor. The Quarian who had started the thread was unable to perform oral sex, as he couldn’t risk removing his helmet, but the users advised those reading that Turians responded well to it all the same.
As Simon read on, he picked up on a few more tips. Female Turians were very proud of their figures, and complimenting their waists usually went down well. They enjoyed metallic scents, but besides putting metal shavings in his body wash, Simon had no idea how that could be accomplished. According to one user, when entertaining a Turian guest, one should remember to raise the thermostat. Palaven was a very hot planet, and one of the reasons that Turians often wore such thick and heavy clothing was because they were cold.
When it came to the act itself, it seemed that ingesting any kind of bodily fluid from one’s partner was a bad idea, and could provoke an allergic reaction. Condoms were a must, silicone-based, if possible. Those were easy enough to get.
Simon continued to read, his confidence steadily growing. He’d had other partners before Val, of course, but something about this felt different. She wasn’t even in the room, yet his heart was racing, his mind swimming with the possibilities. It was almost enough to make him feel dizzy. Perhaps it was the prolonged anticipation, or maybe he felt more for her than he had realized until now, but it made him feel electrified.
There was only one working day standing between them now, he’d have to make sure everything was perfect. They’d need dextro drinks and snacks, he’d have to cook up something that she could eat, he’d need to play with the environmental settings to make sure she was comfortable.
After daydreaming for a moment longer, he turned back to his Omni-tool, intent on learning everything that he could.
The neon sign of the clinic bathed Val in its green glow as she entered through the automatic door beneath it, the panel sliding aside to let her pass. She emerged into a brightly-lit waiting room, all sterile, white-washed metal. There were only a few potted plants scattered about for color. Padded benches were lined up against the walls to her left and right, and there was a front desk ahead of her. She made her way up to it, a few assorted aliens who were occupying the seats watching her as she tapped on the glass, getting the attention of a Salarian secretary whose face was buried in a computer monitor.
“I have an appointment with Doctor Faelon,” Val said, the woman looking up from her work. Salarians were amphibians native to the planet Sur’Kesh. They had flat, noseless faces that tapered into a pair of horn-like prongs on their heads, their oily skin covered in mottled patterning. The secretary peered up at Val with a pair of large, dark eyes, gesturing towards the benches with a spindly finger.
“The Doctor will call your name when he’s ready,” she replied curtly, Val making her way over to the nearest seat. There were aliens of all kinds waiting to be seen. There was a fellow Turian sitting across from her, a pair of lanky Salarians who were engaged in a rapid-fire conversation, and a Volus whose wheezing sounded even more labored than usual. There was even a jellyfish-like Hanar, who was suspended in the air by a gas bladder as its trailing tentacles hung just off the floor, its translucent body glowing with a blue bio-luminescence. Doctor Faelon came highly recommended, he was one of the best doctors on this Ward.
She watched as a hulking Elcor lumbered out of one of the doors, its shoulders so broad that it barely fit, followed closely by a Salarian who was wearing the white uniform of a doctor. He was hurrying the creature along, no doubt frustrated by its plodding gait and its sluggish mannerisms. Salarians had very fast metabolisms, resulting in a kind of hyperactivity that made them come off as impatient and irritable at times.
“Grateful,” the Elcor began in its reverberating voice, stating the emotion that it intended to convey in its droning monotone. “Thank you, Doctor. I will return if the problem persists.”
“Good, good. Out you go,” the Salarian grumbled, the higher pitch of his voice contrasting sharply with that of his patient. “This might be a free clinic, but my time is valuable.”
He brought up an Omni-tool as the Elcor trudged toward the exit, tapping rapidly at the orange hologram with his long fingers.
“Valepia Murpanus,” he said, looking around the room frantically. “Do we have a Valepia Murpanus? Don’t tell me that another one is late for their appointment...”
Val stood, the Doctor’s dark eyes turning in her direction.
“Come, come,” he said as he waved his hand at her. “I don’t have all day!”
She followed him into his cramped office, the walls adorned with various medical tools, including a Medi-Gel dispenser. It was brightly lit, and there was a desk from which a holographic display was projecting. There was a screeching sound as the Doctor dragged an examination table back into position, the legs scratching on the metal floor. It seemed that he had pushed it up against the far wall in order to make room for the Elcor.
“Sit, sit,” he said as he gestured to it. Val did as he asked, watching curiously as he waved his Omni-tool at her. “Nothing outwardly wrong with you,” he muttered to himself, examining the readout intently. “No injuries or illnesses detected by the medical algorithm. Not so much as a bronchial infection! State the reason for your visit.”
Val was more amused than offended, he hadn’t even given her time to introduce herself yet.
“Thank you for seeing me, Doctor Faelon,” she began, the hyperactive physician tapping his foot on the floor. “I actually came to you for advice on a somewhat ... sensitive matter, not because I require any treatment.”
“Very well, explain,” he snapped. “Out with it now, there’s no need to be coy. I’ve seen more in my thirty years on the Ward than you can imagine.”
Turians were a private people, accustomed to formality and protocol. They valued stoicism, self-reliance, asking for help with such a personal matter was rather difficult for Val.
“I’m going to be...” She hesitated, trying to find the rights words, much to the annoyance of the doctor. “I’m in a relationship with a levo, a Human, and I wanted to know what precautions I should take. I’m supposed to be seeing him tomorrow night.”
“Ah, yes. Recreational mating,” Faelon muttered as he turned his attention to the Omni-tool again. “A fruitless endeavor in your case, but no doubt an enjoyable one, none the less. It’s moments like these that I’m grateful to be free of any hormone-based reproductive impulses.”
He walked over to a cupboard that was mounted on the wall, sifting through a collection of glass vials, muttering under his breath. When he found the one that he wanted, he retrieved a medical tool that resembled a handgun from his desk, loading the vial into it with a click. As he approached Val with the implement, she recoiled, leaning away from him as he brought it to her neck.
“Hold on,” she complained, “what’s in there? Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing?”
“If you want to waste more of my time, then of course,” he grumbled. “Quarians and Turians have very similar body chemistry, you’re both dextro, you both have similar physiological reactions to ingesting levo amino-acid chains. Quarians have been dealing with immunology issues since before either of us were born, which makes them experts on the subject. When coupled with some Salarian bio-engineering know-how, we were able to adapt their immune-suppressant technologies to Turian biology. A shot of this will suppress your immune-response for twenty-four hours, allowing you to engage in any ... recreational activities as you please with minimal risk.”
“It’s a shot to suppress my immune system?” she asked, the doctor nodding his head.
“I still don’t recommend ingesting any levo-based food or drinks, or any other levo-based fluids for that matter,” he muttered. “But this will prevent inflammation and anaphylaxis should the Human’s fluids somehow end up inside any ... cavities.”
He thrust the device into her hand, along with half a dozen of the glass vials, taking her by the arm and guiding her down from the examination table. He ushered her to the door, shooing her out of the room.
“Don’t use more than one in twenty-four hours,” he said, “and come back if you need more.”
“T-thank you, Doctor Faelon,” she stammered.
“Yes, yes, off you go now.”
The impatient Salarian called his next patient, leaving Val standing there with her hoard of medication. She made her way out of the brightly-lit waiting room and into the relative gloom of the Ward, her eyes drawn to a passing skycar as it flew overhead, weaving between the towering buildings.
That was it, then? She had been fretting about it so much, fearing that if she accidentally ingested some of Simon’s fluids, or if they didn’t use adequate protection, she’d suffer some kind of horrific allergic reaction. All she needed was a shot, and now they could make love as though there were no differences between them.
She began to walk back to her apartment, her head swimming with a blend of apprehension and anticipation. On one hand, she worried about what Simon would make of her. Did he really know what he was getting into? How much research had he done? Earlier that evening, Val had run an extranet search for images of nude Human females, and they looked nothing like her. Sure, they shared a similar body plan, but that was about where the similarities ended. Human women were covered in soft flesh, with smooth skin, they had no scales or armored plates. What if she took her clothes off, and Simon wasn’t attracted to her?
On the other hand, the thought of finally being intimate with her boyfriend kept pushing itself to the forefront of her mind. She doubted whether she would even be able to concentrate at work. Sure, he didn’t have a crest or mandibles, but there was something oddly alluring about him that she couldn’t really articulate. He was exotic, strange, there was an element of taboo that she was still wrestling with. But more than simple attraction, she wanted to take their relationship to a physical level, and there was nothing preventing that now.
She walked into the pink glow of a neon sign outside of a nightclub, its light reflected off the walkway, the thumping music bleeding into the street. As she dodged around a gaggle of Asari who were making their way out, she wondered again about what her parents would say, but they weren’t here. One of the reasons that she had left Quadim was so that she could be her own woman, make her own choices. It wasn’t as though they were oppressive, no moreso than what would be expected from Turian parents, she didn’t resent them. But didn’t everyone need to fly the nest eventually? Shouldn’t they go out into the Galaxy and see what they could make of themselves, for good or ill?
This was what she wanted, and she was going to see it through.
Simon eyed the digital clock on his wall, watching the seconds tick down as he straightened his dress shirt nervously. Val hadn’t been a fan of the suit, so he had elected to dress in a less formal, more traditionally Human manner tonight. Six o’clock, that was what they had agreed. The hour was fast approaching, and Turians were a punctual people.
He willed his foot to stop tapping on the carpet, turning to look over the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, as he was still fairly new to the Citadel, and he didn’t have many friends to entertain yet. The room wasn’t large, but it had a great view, the wall-length window looking out over the towering spires of the Ward.
His table, while rather small, had seen set for two. There was a plant in a stylish vase in the center, artificial, but sporting colorful flowers none the less. According to the florist, a Volus who probably wasn’t entirely trustworthy, it was a replica of a flower from Val’s home colony of Quadim. Simon thought that she might appreciate the personal touch.
Cooking for dextros wasn’t as difficult as he had anticipated. As long as he wore latex gloves while handling the ingredients, and resisted the urge to lick spoons, he’d be fine. He’d stocked the fridge with drinks and snacks, too, and the couch was pulled up in front of a wall-mounted monitor ready for a movie viewing. Unfortunately, most of the movies involving both Turians and Humans were dramatizations of the Relay 314 Incident, not a very romantic event. They’d have to settle on something else, there was plenty to watch on the extranet.
There was a buzz at the door, and he snapped to attention like a soldier, Val’s flanged voice coming through on the speaker.
“Simon? I’m here.”
Right on time. He walked over to the door and opened it, the panel sliding into a recess in the frame to reveal Val. She was dressed in casual clothes that weren’t too different from her uniform, a full-body suit with a kind of tunic design on the torso, and there was a glass bottle clutched in her hands.
“Hi,” he said with a wave, peering up at her tattooed face for a moment. “Oh, come in,” he added as he stepped aside to let her pass.
“I brought this,” she said, thrusting the bottle into his arms as she stepped over the threshold. “I read that it’s customary for guests of Humans to bring some kind of alcoholic beverage as a gift.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said as he examined it. Champagne, not bad, she really had done her research. “Would you ... like to sit down? I’d take your coat, but ... it seems to be attached to the rest of your suit.”
“You laid out a spread just for us?” she mused, walking over to the table and inspecting the flower. She reached out and ran a clawed finger over its blue petals, smiling to herself. “Just like the orchids from Haros, where I grew up. It’s sweet of you to remember, Simon.”
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