[F4M] Poker Night on the Normandy [Mass Effect][Tali][hand job]

This is set in early ME2 and could be viewed as an alternate beginning to the Tali romance plot. She certainly sees it that way ;)

****

When Joker lost his last chips, he took off his hat and threw it in the center of the table. I was confused--was there a rule they hadn't taught me, or was this some human custom regarding defeat? I wanted to ask, but everyone was laughing. I took another sip of my Turian brandy and kept quiet.

Miranda dealt the next hand with the strangest smile on her face. If I'd been confused before, then I was completely lost--she dealt Joker in when he didn't have anything left to bet! I looked around the table and saw that no one had tossed in their ante for this hand.

Though I hated to look stupid in front of anyone--especially Miranda--I didn't understand why the game had changed, or how, and I said so.

Joker laughed, and Miranda's perfect lips twisted in a smirk, but you, Commander...you smiled and explained, though my heart sunk with every word. I pushed myself up from the table, embarrassed and dizzy--how much brandy had I drunk? I mumbled something about my suit and turned to go, when a hand closed around my wrist.

Don't touch me!

I only realized it was your hand after I had already wrenched mine away. I tried to apologize, but it came out wrong, sometimes I feel like everything I try to say to you comes out wrong. I was blushing, but of course, you couldn't tell. Or maybe you could, maybe you guessed. Your voice was very gentle as you told me I didn't have to leave. Yes, you and the others would be taking off your clothes whenever you lost a hand, but since I couldn't take off my suit, well, then couldn't we just keep track of what I would lose? Helmet, boots, gloves, and so on. And at the end, if I lost everything, then I would owe a forfeit to whoever won that hand.

I still wanted to leave. I wasn't so drunk that I couldn't tell this was a bad idea. You humans with your casual touches and sly jokes and all that easy confidence, you'd think nothing of stripping down for just a game. Jack's half-naked all the time anyway! But I'm not like that, I can never be like that. I could never show my face to someone without risking my life, never feel the touch of another body without this damned suit in the way.

And if I stayed, I wondered what I would end up owing if I lost. Joker didn't worry me because he'd definitely lose first, and Garrus was always so kind to me, he'd probably dismiss the whole thing. I cringed at the thought of losing to Miranda or Jack--Miranda would find a way to be a spiteful bitch like she always was, and who knew what Jack would do?

And if I lost to you...

I sat back down and picked up my cards.

It was so strange. I still wanted to win, but at the same time, I was willing to lose, as long as it was to you. And you were hardly losing at all. It was five hands before you had to pull off your boots. By that point, Miranda was already down to her bra and panties--but then, she was at a disadvantage since the jumpsuit had to come off all at once. Jack had lost her boots and pants, Joker his shirt, and Garrus had wrestled off half of his armor.

It was interesting, though, to watch how everyone acted when they were undressed. Jack didn't seem to care about her nudity at all, but Miranda flaunted hers. I was glad, more than once, that no one could see me blush. Joker laughed whenever he had to take something off, and Garrus would laugh a little too, but he still seemed very serious, intent on winning.

You...well, I tried not to look at you. Not any more than I had to. Since you were sitting next to me, I didn't stare when you pulled off your shirt. It would have been nice if I had felt the air move against my skin when you tossed it over your shoulder, just missing me. I imagined I did, but that's not the same. I think I had never wanted to claw the suit from my body more than I did right then. To feel that breeze. To have felt your hand around my wrist directly, instead of through the suit. To feel your breath against my ear, my neck, my lips.

I only had to turn my head a little to see the curve of your shoulder, the length of your bare arm. You had your hands folded neatly on top of the table, waiting for Jack to deal the next round. You seemed as unconcerned about displaying your body as she did. Garrus made some dry remark that set you laughing, but I didn't catch it. I was too focused on you, so focused that I almost forgot I had to start the first betting round--though since we weren't betting anymore, really, all I had to do was decide to stay in or fold.

And that was bad, very bad, because I was down to just the main body of my suit. Maybe you and the others assumed I had a bra and panties on under it, like Miranda did, but...I didn't, I didn't *need* to. If I stayed in on this hand and lost, then that was it. But since no one was actually going to see, it did occur to me that I could lie and say I was wearing them if that would get me out of trouble...

Three kings, an eight, and a four. Starting with three of a kind was good, so I decided I'd play this hand.

You were next, and you stayed in--but then one at a time, everyone else set their cards on the table with a grimace or a shake of the head.

My turn to draw, and it was just the two of us. I stared at my cards for a moment before I pitched two of my kings, getting an eight and a three in return. I hoped you could beat a pair of eights.

You drew. I couldn't see your expression, but you laid your cards down on the table with a flourish. Three fives.

I laid out my hand and tried not to stammer when I admitted I was out. If anyone wondered at how embarrassed I sounded, I hoped they would blame it on the brandy. You turned to me with that same sweet smile you'd worn when you were convincing me to stay, and I mumbled something I don't even remember, trying to be a graceful loser while also trying to get out of there as fast as I possibly could. I rushed out of the room and back to my quarters, where I spent the next hour pacing, then trying to sleep, then getting up and pacing again.

My nervous energy seemed to burn all the brandy away, which made me wonder if I shouldn't have some more, just to calm down. I was debating that when the door chime sounded.

“Come in!” I called without thinking, and then, there you were. Fully dressed, thankfully. I stared at you for a moment before I could find anything to say.

But I babble when I'm nervous, so as soon as I did speak, it was a stream of nonsense. You crossed the room and laid your hands gently on my shoulders, which silenced me.

You were so calm, and more than a little serious as you spoke. You'd wanted me to stay because I'd been having fun, you explained, and you didn't want to see me excluded, which is why you'd come up with the forfeit idea. But you wanted me to know that I didn't owe you anything.

I'd known you would say that. Of course I knew. You'd never hold me to some kind of drunken poker bargain. That wasn't why I'd spent the last hour fidgeting. I was a nervous wreck because I couldn't figure out how to tell you that I wanted to owe you something, that I wanted to do something.

If I were Miranda or Jack or Ashley or Liara, then all I would have to do was kiss you, and you'd know. But I couldn't. And I didn't seem to have the words. I rested one hand against your chest instead, feeling your heartbeat. So strong and steady, while mine was pounding. Your hands tightened on my shoulders, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do. That was all it took to make me realize that the words you weren't saying were the same ones I couldn't.

I backed up towards the bed, and your hands slid down my arms to link with mine. When I sat down on the edge of the bed, you hesitated, but I pulled you down with me. You watched me so closely, waiting to see what I would do, what I intended. You hovered over me, staring like you were trying to see straight through the suit to my skin, my face, my eyes.

I giggled and rolled the two of us over, taking you by surprise and pinning you to the bed. I sat back and ran my hands over you, tracing the muscles of your chest and arms, then dancing up your neck to swipe at the stubble on your cheeks. I couldn't feel it through the suit, not exactly, but I could hear the sound it made as it scraped against the material, and that was almost as good.

You laughed and mimed a bite at my fingers. I snatched my hand away, laughing too. Why had I been so nervous about this?

Your laughter faded, though, when I pulled back, settling myself on the bed beside you, and my hand roamed farther down. You held very still while I undid your belt and slipped my fingers inside your pants to find your hardening cock. When I wrapped my hand around it, you tried to protest, but I placed one finger of my other hand against your lips, a human gesture I'd seen in countless vids and always wanted to try. Let me do this, I said. You hesitated, your eyes widening, but finally, you nodded.

I stroked you gently once, up and down, and you let out your breath in a hiss. I knew immediately that this wasn't going to work without a little help--the fingertips of my suit's gloves were textured for better grip, but that made them tug and pull at your skin. I thought a moment, then got up to retrieve my suit repair kit, returning to the bed with a tube of lubricant meant for the suit seals, and one of the soft cleaning cloths.

You'd used that time wisely yourself, stripping off your pants. I ran one hand up the sleek muscles of your thigh as I settled back down beside you. You laughed softly when you saw what I had, and I giggled as I squeezed some of the lube onto my fingers, but your laugh died away when I took your cock in my hand again, smoothing the lube all along its length.

You lay back and let me touch you, closing your eyes. I listened to your rapid, shallow breathing, hoping to hear clues there about how to bring you the most pleasure. Soon enough you let out faint moans as I pumped you in my hand, slowly at first, then faster. I was startled, though, when you whispered my name, and I lost the rhythm. You reached up to cradle the back of my neck and draw me down until our foreheads touched--or would have, anyway. The top of my face plate rested against your skin, and I closed my eyes too, pretending it wasn't there.

I began again with slow, firm strokes. I didn't need to hear you groaning to know how close you were, because I could feel your cock twitching in my hand. I resisted the urge to pump faster, harder, because I wanted this to last as long as it could. I didn't want this connection to end, I was too afraid there would never be another time like this, when you desired me, when I could be someone you needed, and it didn't matter that I was locked away inside a suit that would let me see the space around me but never truly feel it.

But I could feel your cock pulsing, finally, with your release, and I caught the spurts of liquid with the cloth. Most of it, anyway, some dripped down onto my hand, and I held it up before me, rubbing the stickiness between my fingers. I was overcome with an urge to taste it, but of course, I couldn't, and I couldn't help the wave of disappointment I felt, either. I tried not to let it color my voice as we cleaned up and traded easygoing banter. It was strange, I should have felt awkward or embarrassed because of what we'd done, but I didn't. I didn't know what this meant for us, if anything like this could ever happen again, if anything more could happen...but the way you smiled at me and said good night before you turned to go....

I sat down on the edge of the bed with the stained cloth in my hand and stared at it for a long time. Then I broke the seal holding the arm of my suit to the glove, and pushed back the edge just enough to dab a trace of you onto the skin of my wrist. I sealed the suit back up again, knowing that I'd pay for it the next day with a fever at least and maybe much, much worse...but if I could be with you someday, skin against skin, then it was a risk I was willing to take.