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Kandros passed a hand over his neck as he crossed through Ditaeon. The little outpost had grown quite a lot in the late months, with most of the influx coming from the crypods unloading days and nights through the arks. For this, as well as the added work of coordinating strike teams to secure the sector, it made Tiran Kandros' life more difficult… But worthwhile as he felt somewhat in control and not useless like in the first moments in the Andromeda Galaxy.

Nevertheless, he was feeling sore and tense. Enough that even the Pathfinder told him to take a rest and delegate his work to one of his subordinates. Was it pleasant? No. Was it necessary? Well, the nearest doc narrowly smacked him across the head when he said he should continue working.

So, that was done and with a firm kick in the butt, the Turian was sent right to Kadara to take a break.

The planet might still be a sore spot in the Initiative's ego, but it was the sole place in the sector where you'd find enough booze for dextro and amino… Plus, the leading researchers on dextro and amino they picked up from the Milky Way before they left it.

It was the perfect destination for most Turians since their Golden World got stomped on; they had to count on Ryder's searches to find another Golden World that would befit the Dextro… In a while, then.

But there was another reason why Kandros wanted to come to Kadara as he passed through Ditaeon's streets, stomping on the mud, getting everywhere, to approach one of the transporters leading back to Port Kadara, on the “free side" of the planet.

“Can I join?" asked Kandros to the human who was smoking something, his arm over the open window.

“Sure, my break's almost done. Jump in the back, bird," pointed the Human, pointing with his thumb to the back of the transporter, closer to a pick-up than any fancy vehicle. Nevertheless, Kandros jumped on and waited… And waited. And waited…

Ten minutes later, the armor-clad and white-scaled Turian was about to stand up and check on his driver when he heard the engine purr beneath his feet. Then, it roared as the vehicle began its run from the Initiative's outpost, soon to be city, to Port Kadara. Built upon the mountains, as a sort of chaos of prefab outstretched between peaks, the place was rickety and dangerous. Better than before, since it was no longer a no-law territory but somewhat a different place… Moreover, it was where Kandros desired to be, as they drove by the buildings starting to creep onto the ground floor, using the geothermal sources to power the fabrics that would soon pump more prefab, more steel, or more whatever the former criminal desired.

“Hey! Bird?"

The Human's call dragged Kandros away from his thoughts, only to notice the hairy and somewhat grizzled human checking in the rear-view mirror. He was part of Port Kadara?

“Yeah?" asked Kandros, tapping against the pickup's exterior. He didn't check for his gun; he knew he had it against his hip.

“First time visiting Port Kadara?"

“How do you know?"

“Initiative folks. Always so shaky around it. You're in for a break?"

“Somehow," said Kandros. “A problem with that?"

“No. Just curious what a Turian would come to check there? Guns? Armor? Mods? Don't strike as a booze guy."

“I could surprise you," said Kandros, checking his omnitool for a second before he turned to see the direction ahead. They were not so far from Port Kadara, and he could already see the “slums". If the top side was rickety, the slums below were seen as the dump of the galaxy…

Yet, everyone told the place had improved, and it was Kandros' direction as they drove in the peaks' shadow, behind as the sun was setting in the distance.

“Fine. That's it, bird. Fifty credits," said the gruff Human.

“Fifty credits?"

“Yeah, for the ride. Ain't doing that for the good of my heart."

For a moment, Kandros thought about jumping. But it was better not to get his ire as he grunted.

“One hundred and you'll be there when I need to get back at the colony," said Kandros, his omnitool deployed on his arms. The orange interface was already synced with his account. And for a moment, he waited until the Human nodded.

Then, with a press, Kandros transferred it all to a chip he gave to the human, leaning over to give it through the window before he jumped off the vehicle.

“A pleasure doing business with you!"

With the chuckling human behind him, Kandros continued on foot. They were at the edge of the slums, where the fabrics were edging with the apartment buildings. Somehow, it reminded Kandros of Omega, not in a good way, as he slunk through the streets with the map in mind and… Well, it didn't take him long to see the Elcors sitting right by the double door leading to one sleazy bar. Or so he assumed with the neon light poorly attached to the facade.

However, as Kandros approached, only to be met with distant gazes from the Elcors, they didn't say a thing while he entered.

It was odd, but not so much.

Elcors were one of the latter races to have arrived in the Andromeda Galaxy. The Quarian ark had had an issue with some crazy Quarians… But it brought along the Elcors, who seemed to integrate seamlessly into all strata of society… Even down within the slums.

At least, those were less stupid than most humans acting as bouncers… Or Krogans.

Speaking of which, Kandros was welcomed by one standing by a podium in a costume that was… Comical on a Krogan. Krogans were giant of scales and hardened shells, a battle-hardened species known for its bloodlust and drive for conflict. Yet, to see one in a bunnygirl suit was… Odd. Though Kandros was almost expecting it.

“Welcome. Shall I take your name?" asked the Krogan, soft-spoken. And unbothered as Kandros' eyes drifted on the suit that was of pure latex, sticking to the Krogan's generous curves, to that plump body, to those-

“Tiran Kandros. It's my first time here," said the Turian.

And for a moment, the Krogan was busy typing on a tablet, showing hints of the Krogans' natural inclination to anger, before that face relaxed and the Krogan smiled earnestly at Kandros.

“Yes, it's right. Let me sit you. Do you have any preferences?"

“None."

“Then, it'll be the Silver room."

Indeed, Kandros had no preferences as he was led further ahead, while he relaxed his armor's collar. With the Krogan leading forward, the Turian had all the pleasure to watch his host's wagging tail as they walked through the corridors. Velvet and drapes did wonder to conceal the prefabs' steel or the plastics. Moreover, it seemed they were steadily transitioning to wood, though Kandros was unsure where it came from. Only that it must have cost a pretty penny, much like the dresses the other waiters had when Kandros walked past one passageway leading to a typical bar. However, his host kept guiding him before a row of doors, all aligned, all designated private booths, until they stopped before one steel door.

“The Silver room is yours. One of our waiters will come for you."

“Can I ask for someone in particular?"

“We can. I can check for one of our waiters. Who do you want to see?"

“Your oldest."

“Oh… I think he's available. I'll fetch him."

With a nod, Kandros watched that wondrous and shaking posterior strut away, the heels clicking despite the mats, before he turned to the door. There were cameras everywhere, probably a centralized security system. But he wasn't about to try to break in somewhere. Instead, Kandros entered the sweltering room and undid his entire collar, throwing it on the nearest surface.

Despite its name, the Silver room wasn't entirely silver. In fact, most of the furnishing was plastic except for the bed in one corner, the sofas, and even the lamplights. However, it surely came from the high temperatures and… The depiction of Palavan on the wall opposite to the entrance. No, not a depiction, but a video displayed on a wall-sized screen, with varying angles and scenery. It came over the towns, from rustic to modern, to the deep jungles kept between the agrarian grounds.

A sight Kandros wasn't expecting to see as he continued to undo his armor, revealing a rather simple but formal suit underneath it, one made of black fabric with blue vertical stripes to indicate the nature of the meeting: serious but out of the regulatory ground. One aspect Kandros hardly parted with, even in a situation that was as weird and unlikely as now.

Especially now as he passed a hand over the message Kesh sent him. She could've sent an agent, or Kandros could have sent an agent. But the request was informal, and merely a message indicating where to find Drack.

However, if neither Kesh or Kandros sent an agent here, it was for different reasons. Kesh had no authority, even if she was the Nexus' superintendent. Engineers were far too precious to waste. As for Kandros, it was curiosity… And the kick in the butt from earlier that sent him away.

For a moment, Kandros was content with rereading the same lines, but he quickly grew tired and began to observe the amenities his “hosts" had prepared.

The room was perfectly adequate for a Turian, temperature and pressure-wise. In a corner, a door led to a bathroom. And there was even a closet to store Kandros' armor if he so desired. But no, he wasn't looking for stripping entirely as he rummaged through one of the cupboards and the mini fridge, pulling a bottle of Turian brandy, a rarity in the Andromeda Galaxy, and glasses.

“It will cost you a pretty penny."

The voice was deep, heavy, gruff. Familiar nonetheless as Kandros poured himself a glass, ready for the moment. The Turian took a swig, ready… And turned his eyes to the left, to the entrance. Satisfying both his curiosity and his duty towards Kesh.

Nakmor Drack.

Oldest Krogan around the Andromeda Galaxy. Even further, if Ryder's words were true about the Milky Way, and it was unlikely the human lied. Green scales, grayish shell, osseous spurts all over his body. Partially cyborg with many organs replaced, with one artificial arm.

All had been selling the idea of a hardened Krogan, having seen most of what one galaxy could offer, even two. And yet, one who had been eager to throw himself into another danger when the Kett crisis narrowly swept them.

Yet… Kandros couldn't believe his eyes as he saw someone different than Drack. He took another swig as his eyes wandered on that body he had seen many times during… Private moments.

Especially in the movies “Genophaged, the renewal" and “Genophaged, conquered". Two movies with the same “actor" at the center of them, with all the cheesy dialogues and poorly recorded angles. All amateur, but amateur was what made it all the more exciting…

All the more pleasing to see that Krogan's green ass being pounded by a gray-scaled Turian, a humorously-endowed Elcor, or a scrawny Human. That was a scene, as much as hearing the balls clapping on the plump posterior, or watching that gaping hole dripping from fluids of all types.

A vision that would remain etched in Kandros' mind. Furthermore, as he watched the Krogan approach, rolling his hips, he grabbed the glass Kandros held and emptied it.

“Thanks for the free drink", said Drack, putting the glass back delicately. And, on the occasion, giving Kandros another angle of view, another fruitful display that made his face burn and his groin burn further.

“You're welcome. Rohr? Drack?"

“Drack. Rohr's only for my movies," said the Krogan, laughing. Wholeheartedly, too. One deep, raucous laugh… Clearly different and contrasting to the buxom and curvy Krogan Kandros was seeing.

“You're a fan, Kandros? Didn't peg you as one," said Drack, plopping his half-covered posterior on the nearby couch. With his “armor" on, the Krogan could make most strip-teasing Asaris go purple from the shame of being so exposed. But Drack seemed indifferent as his armor only covered his ribs and legs, as well as his arms. A portion went over his waist, but wouldn't hide the most important bits: whether that ass, the thighs, what's inside… Or even that torso.

“I'm-"

Kandros stopped, shaking his head. He couldn't say he was a fan, if being a fan of a porn-actor was a thing. But he clearly enjoyed the vision…. While not desiring to pass as a degenerate. A flex, a balancing act, he stopped by raising one hand.

“I've got a message from Kesh. She wanted to know how you were doing?"

“What? I told her I'm fine with my new crew," growled the Krogan, his easy-going attitude drifting to a slight defiance. Which wasn't for easing Kandros as he was at back-breaking distance of a Krogan.

“It's between you and her."

“I'm not going back."

“And I'm not dragging you back," countered Kandros, reaching again for his brandy. He needed another glass. He thought he could have taken it, taken the view. His mind confirmed not.

“So. Why are you here, Kandros? You're here to bust the place?" asked Drack, his body tensing and his legs almost ready to bounce.

A Krogan in that situation was in danger. Quite a danger for Kandros as he shook his head. Better to be honest then.

“I'm on a break. Forced paid leave by the initiative. If you get my meaning."

Drack stopped.

His green eyes went over the Turian. Passed over that face, over that body, over that half-undone armor. And.

“HAH! Kicked from the initiative? What did you do? You angered Tann again? You didn't brown-nose enough? Or was it Addison?"

“Nothing like that. The doc told me my stress levels were so high I'd be killing a Krogan with it. No offense."

“None," said Drack, visibly relaxing as his face contorted in a devious… No, smug grin. “So. You're stressed and came to see the good ol' Drack with the excuse you're doing it with Kesh. Didn't think you'd miss me, Kandros."

With that, Drack leaned forward. Forward enough, it would be threatening, as one Krogan in such proximity was a danger to have both knees ripped apart and to have one's face rubbed across a small planetoid.

But no. Not when Drack's approach led to that wide mouth to meet with Kandros', far thinner. However, the Krogan's lips opened, and that tongue prodded, carefully toying with the Turian's exoskeleton, on the face plate, only to find purchase with the corner of the Turian's mouth. Kandros' mandible clicked, but Drack's tongue was inside, filling his mouth while the aroma of brandy filled their united breaths.

All the while, Drack's fingers were over Kandros' body, pressing on the fabric, on the collarbone, on the exoskeleton and plates defining Kandros' impressive and rather sharp body. Not as sharp as some soldiers, but enough, he could be considered pleasing to the eyes. And not without muscles to back those heavy plates.

For a moment, they were stuck like this, with Kandros and Drack kissing until Kandros' fingers danced closer and landed on Drack's almost round belly, finding the stretched scales that had been dyed with smart ink a few months ago.

At the moment, the ink reflected almost nothing, only a faint heart in a darker coloration than Drack's natural color. But an action or a link, and it could display anything… Even Palaven's flag.

Finally, as Kandros' fingers danced on the taut belly, he sighed and peeled back, almost out of breath, while a thread of saliva joined their mouths.

“I-… Hmm," he said, coughing… Not without removing his hand. “I was curious… I recognized your… First movies, but never told a thing to Kesh. If you want to know."

“I know. Otherwise she'd have been running here," commented Drack, easing and leaning on the Sofa, acting like one of those fancy Asari whores while his free hand went on Kandros, imitating the Turian but by stroking his chest-plate.

“Good."

“Good."

Silence. Except for the distant noises and groans, Kandros started to pick up. Maybe another “customer"? His mandibles clicked as he was out of his league for a moment.

“Well. How did you land here? I-… I heard you left Ryder a while ago."

“Yeah," laughed Drack, shaking his head. “Remember the story of my scouts captured?"

“I heard they were at the Nexus and sick? What does it-"

“Shh," Drack stopped, his hand descending over Kandros' groin, between his legs, stroking his thighs before they were on his bulging pants… On the fabric that was concealing the stiff and mainly humid organ. “You let me speak while I do my thing."

“… Ok."

With it followed Drack's display of focus as he continued to speak while his fingers danced to undo Kandros' belt, on pulling the pants away… And to finally pull Kandros' cock from his pants. Blue-tinted due to the blood, rigid from blood, the tapered organ was almost a toy in Drack's hand, in comparison. But Drack handled it carefully as he had his fingers going over the dark-gray foreskin, pulling it down to unveil the darker tip, with the blue coloration coming from the Turian's natural blood. He pulled up on the skin, then down, making Kandros almost drool and tremble while under Drack's touch.

“When we released them, we checked, but they looked fine. But no, they were primed to become that thing we fought with Ryder. It fucked with their bodies and immunity system, doc said. They started to change, to look like I am now. And they are. They were quarantined. But I caught their stuff, skin-to-skin transmission doc said."

With that, the fingers continued to dance, with the touch sometimes slipping to get a grip of Kandros' veiny length, to press on the blood throbbing beneath. It was a powerful and dangerous grip, but Drack was… Somehow soft. Or acted without any excess.

“They found a fix to avoid it, and to replicate. But nothing to undo what it was done. Definitive, doc said. So… We went away. Couldn't be Nakmor anymore if we wanted. Kesh would've happily supported us, but no, we'd be useless."

That was true. Even if Kandros didn't hear everything, he heard about those Krogans who couldn't be… In action. In fact, it was a point of contention after the Kett Crisis, with Kesh calling that illness another Genophage. But Kandros never thought it was so bad. Not even when he saw Drack bending over under other species to get fucked and “conquered" in those cheesy scenario.

But hell, it felt hot. And exciting. Not only from having a slutty Krogan wanting his cock.

“We went to Kadara because it was safe, and maybe we could settle. But we found a backer who wanted us around his bar. Even if we were useless."

“You make… Pretty whores," countered Kandros, groaning as he felt another jolt course through his groin. Precum spewed from his cock, landing on Drack's fingers.

“Pretty whores, yeah. You like what you see?"

“Yes… Pretty much."

No point in denying it. Not when he had his cock in the Krogan's hand and was stroked like a deviant. No, Kandros loved what he saw. When he saw that Krogan, who was generations older than him, could have crushed him like wet paper. But was sultry, soft-spoken despite his gruff nature… And impotent.

Kandros bit his lips, then jumped onward. He couldn't resist and he jumped, going for another kiss while his fingers ran over the bountiful breasts, the round tits, the thick aureola, the pierced nipples, the circling gold. He dug his fingers into the soft fat, listening to Drack's groans and moans like a mere bitch. And a smile stretched on Kandros' face, his mandible clicking as he kissed and kissed… Before he grunted and a shiver ran through him.

One whose center was his burning cock, his burning genitals, before a cumshot spewed free from his cock. White cum spurt free, landing on Drack's fingers before he rubbed it on Kandros' cock, coating the length with that musky Turian cum and used it as lube. “Lube" that pressed on the sensitive skin, coated it, making it reek of Turian excitation and desire.

“You shot quick, bluster," said Drack through one kiss, getting himself a break.

“I can still shoot," countered Kandros, his fingers pulling on one of the nipples, enjoining the Krogan to moan and groan, though those sounds were stifled by another kiss.

“Fuck… Where was… That fire during the insurrection?" asked Drack, still poking fun at Kandros who laughed back.

“Wouldn't want to hurt my favorite whore."

“You win."

Drack's fingers stopped, and so did Kandros as they were still going together, kissing, touching, exploring each other's bodies until Kandros was entirely stripped and Drack beneath the Turian, going at it for his dose of kisses and attention.

With it, Drack's fingers were going over Kandros' genitals, from his low-hanging darker testicles to the base of his cock, to where would be the base, if not difficult to reach due to the plates.

It was no strokes but a steady exploration that was changing, developing as Kandros' mouth drifted from Drack's mouth to his chin, his neck, collarbone… And then those bountiful and fat breasts, while his hands reached for the belly.

“Might not make you a Nakmor. But they fits you well," commented Kandros, mocking as he opened his mouth, almost clicked his mandible against the fatty breasts, before he kissed the right tits… And nibbled on the pierced nipple.

Without any surprise, since he'd seen it from Drack's previous movies, a white dribble appeared, and Kandros could feel the sugar on his tongue tip. A sugary presence, almost cloying, while it missed the flavor of milk produced by dextro-lifeforms. He still licked it, taking one single drop in mouth before he stopped and cocked an eyebrow.

“Is it safe to consume?"

“Yeah. It's safe, but you better take some levo-enzymes," said Drack, gruff and seemingly repeating what he had been taught.

“Levo what?"

“Check in the fridge, the little box," said Drack, letting the Turian go despite the half-mast pointing forward and dripping like a faucet. It was also the opportunity the Krogan took to get on the bed while Kandros rummaged and pulled the little box.

Inside, there were vials, translucent, with… A sort of powder? Nevertheless, the Turian picked one and glanced at it.

“And?"

“Take it, like that. You know how to swallow, no?" replied Drack, leaving the couch to recline on the bed, in a pose that was almost befitting a pin-up: slightly turned toward Kandros, legs joined, left hand on his belly. The Turian watched, emptying the content of the vial in his mouth and coughing in his hand before he approached, his shaft going hard again.

“I know how to swallow. But I'm better at fighting."

On that note, Kandros climbed on the bed and pushed Drack, forcing the Krogan to go supine before the Turian clambered on all fours… And ended with his genitals pressed against Drack's face, while he had his face almost at belly level for the Krogan… But at perfect length to straddle the elderly warrior's face and to play with those meaty breasts, in an imperfect sixty-nine.

Breasts he started to fondle and play with, squeezing and pressing on the soft jugs while he had his cock, blue and hard, pressing against Drack's face until the Krogan relented… And opened his mouth.

One thrust back, and another front… And Kandros groaned, feeling the Krogan's warm mouth wrap around his cock and to start sucking on it. More than that, he had the uvula almost at his cocktip and then… Behind when he penetrated that throat. He started to hump that face and rubbing his low-hanging nuts against the former-Nakmor's face.

“Hrmph, yeah. That's the way to handle Krogans," chuckled Kandros, feeling vindicated due to the rebellion in the Nexus. Not that it was Drack's fault, and in the end, the Krogans were proven right… But there was something kinky and exciting about an ancestral hatred getting turned into sex. Pure, unashamed, and perverted sex as Kandros humped and thrust, hearing Drack's gargles while he felt his cock throb and spew.

Far from ending there, Kandros then extended one finger to a breast, twisting and teasing the nipples… And another hand between Drack's thighs, to find the Krogan's genitals. To find, touch, caress, and explore what couldn't be a standard for the Krogans.

Typically, the krogans were known for their four testicles and to be endowed enough, most Asaris had to think twice before taking a big guy… Even someone gentle.

However, Kandros' hand met with the genitals that could be befitting a human… A poorly endowed human. Barely three inches under his fingers, each orb barely ping-pong-ball-sized, it was absurdly tiny… And enticing to tease.

One finger hooked under the scrotum, lifting it, while the thumb passed to press against Drack's “kroganhood", feeling that cock barely throbbing under the touch. Even when the Turian started to pinch on it to uncover the glans, there was no reaction. Not even a muffled whine from the Krogan as Kandros continued to play with the shaft, literally pushing it left and right. But the organ itself, the nub, finally answered with a jet of watery precum landing on the Turian's digits before Kandros licked it, finding it… Bland.

“When is the last time you fertilized an egg, Drack?"

Kandros asked, still humping that mouth and face, smearing and rubbing his sweaty testicles against that face. Against those wide traits, that wide mouth whose jaws could crush his cock. But wouldn't, not when the Krogan was enjoying it. When the Krogan's moans were wondrously loud. But in the end, Kandrous pulled back and had his cocktip rubbing against Drack's chin.

“Ha-Ha… You're making me laugh."

“A bit. But I'm curious how much it'd be… To listen to a Krogan beg to be… Genophaged?"

Kandros' tone was sultry as he had his fingers poking at the testicles, listening to Drack's aching breath… Before he heard a cough.

“Not… So much."

Kandros smiled, grinned like a voracious beast as he jumped off Drack's face. But in the little time he had with Drack's throat, Kandros had made a mess of the elderly Krogan. Precum stuck to every nook and cranny, saliva drenched those lips… And one eyelid had to be kept half-closed due to the fluids on it, even as Drack stood upright and looked at Kandros.

“How do you want it, big man?"

Kandros had to think. He had seen many movies about the Krogan getting railed… But nothing got him as peachy and excited as watching him beg while bouncing. And so, Kandros snapped towards the screen.

“Can it record and display it?" he asked, his mandibles clicking with a mix of anticipation and desire. He'd never done that. It would be downright perverted, especially to watch it after. But he wanted it as he saw Drack glance at the screen and then laugh.

“Yeah. I even have a few recorded sessions on it."

A moment later, and Kandros was sitting on the bed's edge, his erection prodding and pushing upward, maintained and massaged by his fingers. In his palm, his spire was thrumming like a second heart: warm, needy, rabid. He held on it with a poise while he watched the Krogan's fat ass approach… He watched those cheeks change as the ink was connected to his omnitool. And then, with only the software's partial preview, Kandros knew he could change a lot.

First, he made the Palaven's flag appear on Drack's belly. Supposedly, he was Nexus… But it would be something way more exciting to have him be a “Turian-addicted slut". Something Kandros desired as he wrote all the slurs he'd seen, wondered about, fapped on. “Dextro-Bitch", “Genophaged", “Frog-bitch", “Turians' cocksleeve", “Clan Bitch".

All those insults were checked by Drack, who seemed to feel the change in the ink, and chuckled as he saw them… Even the ones inside his thighs, pointing at his groin with the mere words “I deserve this".

“You're shameless, Kandros, you know?" said Drack, laughing while he had his face turned away from the Turian, checking the screen. However, the Nexus' member could still see the Krogan's tail wagging above his plump, meaty, sweaty posterior. One Kandros couldn't deny the appetite as he saw the buttcheeks naturally pulled apart by the muscles, the tension within them while Drack scratched his cheeks for a second. As those fingers dug, they tugged slightly on the scales with the word “Palaven's property" on them. Not Kandros, it would sell him too easily.

But the Turian was satisfied enough, his mandibles clicked in anticipation before he heard Drack's grunt and looked up.

“It's on. I'll send it to you and delete it after."

“Is that authorized?"

“Shouldn't… But I don't care, I owe you that one," laughed Drack as he turned, leaned, and kissed the Turian's forehead. For a moment, for a tiny instant, Kandros felt bad for abusing the Krogan's state and willingness, the sluttiness of a man who had lost so much.

But as he saw Drack's dripping tits and cocklet, he knew Drack was in, too.

Enough for him to reach for those breasts, to dig into them while he kissed Drack's chin back.

“Face away from me… Make a good show, Drack," said Kandros, pulling back and winking.

An expression that was human at the origin, but commonly accepted among the Nexus.

Drack nodded and so, he turned away, pulling his asscheeks apart until his asshole was exposed. Asshole or cunt, due to how the rim had been abused and outstretched lately. Maybe it could have been a tight pucker before. But the flesh had swollen and started to expand outward, forming a nice wrinkled ring covered with sweat and lube. One that reeked of Krogan musk, yes, as well as other fluids. One the Turian leaned forward to sample, his elongated blue tongue dancing on the orifice that had a vertical, tempting split.

“Oh yeah, taste my cunt. It's yours, big guy," groaned Drack, widening his stance and getting closer to Kandros so he wouldn't have to crane his neck much to get a lick, to rim that hole that was begging and clenching under the touch. Then opening up, letting the darting tongue slip inward to sample the depraved taste that coated the innards. Clearly, the Krogan's asshole was different and though it tasted of ass… It was a mighty fine ass the Turian was eating, his fingers delving into those fat cheeks while, above, Drack moaned. Moaned and masturbated by pinching and pulling on his nipples, making them dribble and leak all that good milk on the floor until the cloying scent filled the room.

But even that, Kandros was unaware of as, in the moment, he was lost in that ass' exploration. He pressed his nose deep, almost breathing the musky air brushing the entrance while his tongue, elongated and prehensile, danced to collect the remnants of inner lubrication to taste it and find its taste… Somehow enticing, a bit salty but not excessive. Perhaps it was from the different biology, as he couldn't pick up all the flavors… or his own poor taste.

Nevertheless, Kandros was moaning and grunting, whispering his desires back to that hole while he quickly returned to his erect and needy cock to masturbate it furiously. He licked, collected, delved… He even managed to find the krogan's swollen and thoroughly bred prostate. The gland had swollen from the hormonal changes… But it remained as sensitive, if not more, as usual, making Drack groan when the tongue tip drummed against it.

“Fuck… My cunt feel so good, big guy. Keep eating it!" cried Drack, cheesy as possible, but genuine. His moans and huffs couldn't be feigned unless he was a good actor, and Drack never was a good actor. Lying was out of his dictionary. But begging like a Turian-addicted cheap whore on Palavan was clearly on it.

“Fuck me up! Prepare me for your big Dextro cock!", “Stuff me like a Xenma!", “Breed me! You stud!"

Oh, the lines were raunchy and spicy… Plus, somewhat accurate when Drack mentioned one breed of herd that was known to be easily bloated and… Stupid. Maybe being fucked stupid was a kink of Drack? Kandros wasn't sure but had a firm guess when his fingers pressed on the ass to push it away, yanking his face from the now-gaping entrance before he chuckled, and passed a finger on the rim. It remained wrinkly, but with the pressure, it looked somehow… Exciting. Almost like a pussy. Not as tight, but clearly… better suited as the Turian stroked and grunted… Then released both ass and cock.

“Come on. Sit on it, bitch. I'll stuff you like your species deserves!"

It was crude. If Allison would have been in earshot, or anyone from the Initiative's leadership, Kandros was bound to get the browbeating of his life. But they were not here. And he could indulge in that fantasy, without fearing the repercussions. Not even from Drack, whose tail wagged above his posterior… Posterior, which descended steadily, carefully, with those knees bending and those thighs pulling on the cheeks.

With that lowered posture, the rim was stretched, and so the slick but velvety insides were unveiled. Slightly purplish, they were comparable to Kandros' shaft when the Krogan descended further until… Until the tip was at the entrance.

Kandros grumbled and moaned, reaching for the Krogan's back while the length slipped inside without resistance, without a fight. The Krogan moaned, sure. The hole clenched, sure. But no resistance, no stop, no break for the Turian from advancing and progressing further inside that velvety hole that begged for him. The flesh pressed against his, thrumming with a pace that was not Kandros' heartbeat, echoed by the Krogan's huffing breaths.

But as it continued, as more than two inches of his cock was inside, Kandros threw his head back.

He leaned on the bed, had his torso's weight on his elbows while he watched that sumptuous Krogan ass landing on his thighs. His mandibles clicked, his fingers dug into the soft sheets, pristine and seemingly recently changed.

He closed his eyes, then, letting go for his restraint as he began to hump back, pushing with his legs and core to push his cock inside, almost to the base. Almost to the point that was the most sensible in Turian anatomy.

He restrained a squawk, he muffled his breath… And went at it again, once more thrusting while Drack seemed to freeze, wait, stop.

“TAKE IT! KROGAN BITCH! I'LL RUIN THAT CUNT!" shouted Kandros, participating to the exchange while Drack kept shouting, voicing his pleasure.

“RUIN ME!", “CONQUER MY BODY, BIG GUY!", “STUFF IT WITH TURIAN CUM!", each were sounding more desperate than the former, each one with more arduous inhalation between each words.

There was no doubt Drack was masturbating, not with his cock but with his breasts, massaging and pinching on them, while he bounced up and down. As much as he descended, Kandros' thrusts pushed Drack upward, forcing him on a perilous balance in which he could break the Turian's hips, but didn't.

Nevertheless, his actions were more cautious than you'd expect of a Krogan, of a rutting Krogan, of a whorish Krogan…

An action that continued as Kandros' thrust accelerated, and his breathing was ragged. The Turian's entire body was wrecked by the tension running from the groin and up along the spine, along his muscular legs and arms. His mandibles clicked while his mouth remained silent, too focused as he was to find any witty quips. He was not a man to repeat himself, and mere insults were not his kind… Even if Drack wasn't one to mind and was one to repeat his begging about being stuffed.

By that point, Kandros' cock had gone fully inside at least thrice, and his cock was seemingly about to burst from the tension, the shaft burning and his semen piping hot. His testicles were snug inside the scrotum, by the thin scaly skin pulling them up.

And… The whole tension was reaching its apogee. A squawk escaped Kandros before he filled his lungs, and the sound that followed could be comparable to a whistling completed by clicking lips, hitting as hard as to produce a snap. Again, to do so as his orgasm was coming to a close, as he was fighting against it, and each snap was his resistance breaking.

One slow-breaking worsened by Drack's actions. He had reached for his cheeks, to squeeze them tightly together while he couldn't with his legs. And used them to rub Kandros' cock when he pulled out, smearing all his precum in between.

The sensation was exquisite for the Turian, whose body was shaking and talons digging into the floor, scraping against it.

But one that had to stop as it reached its culmination… And exploded, ending with Drack almost sitting on Kandros' thighs, but not crushing them.

In that blissful instant, Kandros groaned while cum spewed free and started to pour inside the Krogan, drenching his guts but no further. One shot, two, three… And the Turian dropped, back on the mattress, his elongated frontal plate digging into the fabric and soft composition while he glanced at the neon light above.

He grunted, feeling his loins still clenching and shaking while the Krogan remained seated… But a little bip indicated something had changed. And Drack turned to look over his shoulder, smiling at Kandros.

“I've sent you the video, if you wanna see," chuckled Drack, waving his omnitool while Kandros groaned and sighed, pushing with his elbows.

“Let's finish you, first," answered the Turian, ready to answer in kind what he got… But as the Krogan lifted his plump cheeks, he laughed.

“No need, I already came… Twice," laughed Drack, clenching his buttcheeks to keep all that cum inside.

And it seemed he was right, as on the wooden floor, a chaste but distinctive translucent puddle had formed where Drack's ejaculation ought to be.

“Sheesh… You're really… Shooting nothing," commented Kandros, impressed. Only to frown and glance at Drack, who didn't seem angry, but laughed.

“That's right. I'm already too old for that, but keep your words in front of the pups. Come on," said Drack, ready to pull Kandros for the shower.

He yanked the Turian on his wobbly feet and with a stance that didn't betray he just got fucked, Drack was quick to help Kandros clean himself up, though he didn't have much to do. The worst was Kandros' groin, but a quick jet of water was enough to fix it… Drack's asshole, however, took more time before the Krogan told Kandros off and allowed the Turian to strut away.

“Well… Let's see that recording."

---

Still typing at his desk, Kandros' eyes drifted onto the clock, synced with the Nexus' system. Nevertheless, as he was sitting at the Ditaeon's colony security outpost, the Turian felt somewhat stiff and a bit excited. He watched the files he had already handled, mostly petty thievery and other little non-issues that were to be handled case by case, whether with a tight fist or mercy.

But only a few minutes left and-

A notification.

Not on his computer, not on the Initiative's internal systems. But on his omnitool. A quick message and Kandros' lips clicked, as much as his mandibles.

“Sarana?" he suddenly asked, standing up and closing the computer.

“Yes, sir?" asked the young Turian, almost too joyful for her role as a mere paper pusher.

“I have tagged the cases for the day, dispatch them to the agents per order of priority and estimation. I've left notes for peculiar cases."

“Yes, sir. Anything you'd like to see?"

“Prepare me a cab for Kadara Port."

“Of course."

With a nod, she was gone, and Kandros checked his message… In the silence of the office, there was a single video.

At the front was a row of Krogans, attached and dangling from ropes. Their belly were rounds, pointing down, and their faces broken in an expression of utter pleasure, with cum all over their facies. But Kandros knew better as he saw the rows of tattoos on them, the insults etched on the scales with reactive ink. Already, he felt his pants tightening, especially with the recent treatments he got.

He leaned back on his desk, watching a group of three Krogans getting fucked by Elcors, watching the hulking aliens grunts and harrumphs while not even speaking a word to answer to the Krogans' pleas as those were fucked. He could see the guts getting hammered, the belly bulging from the Elcors' enormous cock, somewhat tugging on the skin. He saw the Krogans' expression breaking down while the few around were either afraid or excited, their noses pulled up by nosehooks.

They all looked so stupid, so whorish… Too stupid. And yet, wanting to be claimed. Newly Genophaged Krogans. More were always coming.

Then the video panned on a group of men of different species, none Krogans, sitting around a bar, naked. Some were stroking themselves, some were leering, while a few were talking as if it were no problem. And Kandros felt his cock grow harder as the camera went on another Turian, one whose face was familiar.

The Krogans' benefactor and current owner, Platinum, as he nicknamed himself. Kandros couldn't stick an ID on him… So instead, he went along.

Platinum, with his perverted grin, was filming himself with a drone as he spoke.

“Hey, big guy. We kept Drack on the side for the break-the-Krogans day… But you gotta be quick, we want that old ass, too!" laughed the Turian. And Kandros? Kandros was as hard as steel, wanting nothing more than to join them, as he sent one message back.

“On my way. You can play with his tits and clit before I'm here."

With that, he heard the hydraulics of the door opening, right in time as he strutted onward.

“Sir, your cab is ready."

“Perfect. Tell the men not to contact me for the next two days. I've got a mission in Kadara Port."