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Remus looked down at his clean porcelain plate.

Hamburger, buns made with natural flour. Chicken patty not cut with soy viand, freshly harvested salad probably from a hydroponic farm. Beer that wasn't a cheap knock-off: the tag was authentic and didn't come off if he scratched the "Unvanquished, Invincible, Invictus". What kind of Hell that was?

All around him, he saw ties and suits eating their organic-grown meals, munching on luxury within that rock. All while surrounded by armed Eclipse guards patrolling the restaurant like a freaking beehive without bothering those stiff cunts. They did not chat, they did not look at the plates or those white-collars bastard. For a moment, it almost felt like Remus was in the "Citadel" and not the hellhole of the Galaxy.

The Turian gulped, then rubbed his face.

"Eat up, it will be easier to exchange if you're not famished."

Truth was, Remus had to wipe his lips. The fume of that hamburger made him drool like a maniac or the poor soul in his condo's staircase whenever he offered him a meal.

"Do not worry. This is on my company account. It's free, take a bite."

Carefully, the Turian picked the burger up with trembling digits. The bread wasn't soggy, and the skewer through it maintained the arrangement. Finally, he took a bite.

And muffled a scream.

The meat wasn't overcooked, and its flavor dripped in his mouth. So intense, so salty, and yet delicious. The taste of blood mixed with the cream-based sauce with touches of fine herbs. The salad cracked against his palate while he chewed. The bun itself wasn't dry in mouth and it had absorbed some flavor during the short time it had been exposed to the other ingredients. All to end in a fresh aftertaste as he gulped the whole bite... And coughed.

"Spirits..." he whispered, looking down at the burger missing a large portion... Almost a fourth. Only three more bites.

"Hey... Are you with me?"

Remus directed his eyes to the other Turian: white scales, golden and refined markings, impeccable teeth, clean suit. His presence befitted that upper-class restaurant, whereas Remus was a hobo in his shabby and discolored attire.

"Yeah... Yeah, sorry. I'm surprised there's something like that place here, in Omega. Upper-class and rich, and all."

"This is an oddity, I confirm. A few corporations aligned on the prospect of securing their markets in the terminus system and participated in building a campus where their workers would be protected and taken care of. They have to pay grands to Eclipse, but they did turn a part of that rock into civilization. But let's cut to the chase, shall we? You kept the suitcase after I left it in your car, instead of thrashing it as I hoped. Now, this case remains in your possession?"

Remus gulped again, that time from a sip of that sweet beer.

"Yes, it is. That's really a cure? For Krogans?"

"Shhh!"

Leaning forward, Velius brought his fingers to his lips. Close by, in another alcove no different than the one they were in, stood a group of Salarians and an Asari. And Velius' green eyes kept moving from Remus to them. His expression? Pure anxiety with those contorted brows and clicking mandibles.

"This is a touchy subject, even more so in the Terminus systems. Keep it low."

"Got it..." answered Remus, which seemed to ease off the older Turian.

"But to answer, yes, it is. Or rather, this is experimental. A prototype we tested on Krogans from Omega."

"But... Why Omega?"

"It's a Terminus system, as I said. Laws on genetic experiments and classified technology do not apply, we can use brevetted products without any added costs. And no one dares to ask what kind of drugs we use in our trials. They want the pay, and that's all."

Now, Remus tilted his head. And rested his head on his closed fist, no different than a human child's mannerisms. There was something... Off with that Turian.

"Why are you telling me all this? You can call your mercenaries and swat my place to get the stuff. What's the real issue?"

"Not anymore. Have you heard about the accident near the Docking Bay L9? The one you left me at? A ship whose eezo core overloaded?"

"I do."

With a perfunctory hand, Remus nabbed a french fry and bit it... Real Dextro potatoes, without any additives or anything. Damnit.

"It was not an accident. I had booked a place inside it before one of my operatives called me. She told me I should stay on Omega for the moment. An exchange that probably saved my life. As for the security, their investigation closed the day after."

"It could be something else. Blue suns, a little gang having their fun, or even a failing drive."

"Impossible. Eclipse agents have the orders to shoot anyone on sight if they're beyond the allocated emplacement. Even VIPs. And it was a top-of-the-line ship, any incident with the eezo core would have been noticed."

"Perhaps something really talented?"

"High-grade sensors and redundant systems complementing the mercenaries. This is why corporates use that transit line."

"But if it was something reaaaaaallyyyyy talented?"

Remus maintained the sound before munching another fry... But Velius wasn't relenting. That guy was back to his stick-butt face, dry like imported fruits.

"This is not funny. I know you don't believe me."

"It's not funny. And right. Sometimes, ships explode and people die because that's how it works in Omega. You can be careful, but an idiot could be falling onto your face, and it's not a mark on your ass."

"But I received a message from my operative that told me I had to stay on Omega, that's a sign."

"And what was the reason?"

"I have not received any answers... Yet."

Velius seemed dejected when saying those words, chin low.

"Sooo... that's why you are inviting me, and you want the content of the suitcase back."

Now, it was the time for that corporate to be ruminating. His fork played with the sautéed verran roots, his glass of wine empty... A similar fate for the bottle.

But then, he abandoned the fork to turn his sight toward the left. Towards the dimly lit main room and the entrance. Eclipse mercenaries stood close by the majestic wooden door, holding assault riffles while the waitresses ignored them. Most were humans except two Asaris, all females and gliding on the marble tiles, between the tables decorated with roses and gilded utensils. Their delicate hands were lifting plates like it was nothing... And everything screamed to Remus: "We are picked because we have a nice face. Now, eat your pricey meal." Even their robes would have been sold as a way to "improve" the degustation.

"I must admit, there is a different reason for me to open up about it."

Remus lifted his brow in askance as their eyes met.

"Your father, he has ingested the cure. It should have been injected, but he drank it. And I want to know the side effects."

"If it's an injection, and he drank it, it should do. Nothing?"

"Not necessarily, the cure is a swarm of nanorobots. Their programming forces them to alter a Krogan's body to correct the hormonal imbalance due to the Genophage. Similarly, their presence remains within the organism and serves in regulating the bloodlust by halting the hormonal cascade."

"But it made my dad horny."

"True. I imagine this is a side effect, but the machines are affecting his body. I presume other changes will be happening. However, I must keep an eye on his situation. I need to have... Data, samples, even blood work. To see what is happening."

"You want my dad to be your guinea pig?!"

"SHHH!!"

Velius was back to shushing, raising both hands and grasping Remus' shoulders to plop him back on his seat... All while, they received glances from the Asari waitresses and one of the Salarian from the nearest table.

"It's done. He has the cure inside him. There's nothing else to lose from giving me the information. And perhaps this could help... Make your dad not horny anymore?"

Back in his seat, Remus crossed his arms. And growled. And scowled at his interlocutor. It wouldn't be a bad thing if Kror did stop being such a hornball and if their place wasn't stinking like a shady strip club. But it was... nice to be with Kror. It was like a teenager's dream coming true! And his dad was begging for it.

"Well, I'm not sure. It's my dad, any other Krogan could replace him, right? Why him specifically?"

"... What? He's... he's the first one that received the cure and hasn't displayed adverse effects in the following hour or shown positive results! He's not "Any Krogan"."

"Even if that's true... Why should I help you with it? The Genophage was created to protect the Galaxy, right?"

Velius's eyes opened wide, his hands brought close to his jaws while he trembled from astonishment.

"But you-... With. A Krogan raised you, and the Genophage doesn't trouble you?"

Remus shrugged to it, using his father's words.

"The Krogans endured it and will endure it 'til they rise again. In the meantime, it keeps idiots in check."

"That's cold."

"That's what my father told me, and he didn't seem bothered by it. Come to think of it..."

Remus grimaced a second, then shook his head.

"But I won't let my Dad be a guinea pig for you."

"Well... ... What if I can offer you something you cannot refuse?"

That time, Remus raised his eyebrows. And saw Velius chuckle.

Remus watched his skycar's automatic system drive in a circle, observed the vehicle try to follow a supposed route toward the Fumi district. But they were flying above it, and whenever it approached the usual parking spot, the car suddenly jerked to the left as it couldn't detect the Fumi district any longer.

A bug Kror had to fix one day...

For now, he fixated on the habitation blocks close by... Even his apartment in the distance, on the tenth floor with a disgusting burr of a room attached to it. An outcrop built by his father on anchored steel beams. He used it as a workshop, with its rusty walls standing in stark contrast with the concrete facades of the prefabs, stacked until they looked like condos. From afar, he saw the apartment's light still on. His dad would still be up for one or two hours.

After he gave his offer, Velius drove Remus back to the parking lot and left him, the young Turian, and the contact in the omnitool. He simply had to send information to Velius, and the deal would be concluded.

No contract, no real implication. After all, Velius didn't need the suitcase since he could reproduce its content... But this batch worked... And his father...

Remus sighed and scratched his neck, ignoring the shivers running through his legs. With a swift hand, he took back the control before it made another turn.

In the dead of the night, his landing and walk home was uninterrupted. The market had closed hours ago, and nobody manned the empty stands. Even Legius was absent, though Remus had an inkling of his current whereabouts.

But he didn't want to pry more into the veteran's relationships... He already had his issues. Mainly... A restless Krogan father.

The same who was back at his workshop when Remus entered his apartment, still as naked as before. But that time, he wasn't blaring death rock in the whole condo, and had thought reasonable to close the door.

"Hey, Dad!" shouted the young Turian while approaching the extraneous room.

"Hey, Remus. How was your late spin? You managed to fix the balance issue with the drive?"

Again, Remus stroked his neck... The exact spot, as he glanced sideways.

"Not really. I guess it'll take me days before I correct it. I'm all in... And you, you're good?"

Now, it was Kror who grimaced. His face contorted, and those eyes narrowed. But he still managed to smirk and smile, though it was obviously forced.

"I'll manage, Remus. Go to bed, I'll need you for an errand tomorrow. "

"Okay. Sleep tight."

In a nod, the Turian headed to his room to get some shut-eye.

Though his dreams and night were of little reprieve. Grunts and growls, along with rolls and plodding steps, kept him from sleeping.

Kror was restless, and his woes resonated within their little place until, by the late hours, snores remained. A moment of respite... Marred by doubts.

Should he accept the deal? Should he take Velius up to his offer? The young Turian kept feeling the scales at the back of his head, they itched him at the thought of the promise. He... Steadily, the hand released its grip and went limp. It fell there... And remained until the artificial light finally extirpated the Turian from his slumber.

Since Kror had told him about today's run, he kept the same clothes as yesterday and moved on to the kitchen... And the fridge. Inside, the number of vials had not changed, and Kror had not thrown them, allowing the Turian to sigh... And to grab one of them.

Inside, the shimmering pink liquid remained still and stable. Why was his Dad okay after drinking it? How could his life turn to shit like this? His father, that guy... ... No, it wasn't that liquid. It changed nothing.

His fingers still ached and trembled from yesterday's rush. By the window, the vista was that good old meddle of shitty metal and concrete, Omega.

This vial... Perhaps, this was a chance for him to change. For both of them.

Remus pocketed it before stepping to his father's half-closed door to peek. Sprawled on his bed, Kror looked more like a lump of stone on its belly... Except for that lifted rump, that wagging tail as he had a good dream. That ass, presented that way, looked delightful. Muscular and firm, with a layer of fat softening the mounds and giving it grips. It was perfect, more so when any shacking revealed glimpses of that anus nestled in between.

However, Remus knocked on the door: "Hey, Dad. It's the morning!"

He then left his father awake with many grumpy grumbles, instead deciding to make a pot of coffee.

Much to Remus' peace, his father went for the shower and didn't beg him to fuck with him that time... Even when they ate their breakfast: coffee and bread for Kror; juice for Remus. And again, nothing when they walked through the market: a bag full of Ryncol's bottles in one's hand, a duffel bag stuffed with iron in the other's.

They didn't need to talk during all this. Until they approached the parking spot, a little platform drifting apart from the Fumi district, a remnant of an Eezo storage facility.

"Hey... Dad. Do you know who Targ is? Last time, Goalth and Urer were absent. I dealt with that guy."

"Hmmm... A bit small, purple-red hump, dry lips, slumped shoulders, red eyes?"

"Yeah, that guy!"

Remus opened the passenger's door while inside the vehicle and began to pack up the thrash before throwing them out on the concrete. As for the CD cases, he placed them on the backseats.

"Funny. He was one of my flings back in the day. A bit of a bastard, though. I'm surprised he survived all these years on Omega. Funny you got back from meeting with him."

"I... I admit he was... Eh. He doesn't like dealing with me."

"That's his problem, not yours. I'll remind him and the pack of our arrangement."

A BUMP shook Remus as the car's trunk closed. He then lifted his eyes on his dad, leaning on the roof and checking.

"Thanks. He's probably taking some creeper, he reeked that stuff."

"'Got it, Son. Now, jump on your spot."

Ordered Kror. He pushed Remus onto the passenger's seat and settled on the leather. Despite the car's small size, they were both used to squeezing themselves to stay inside. And it didn't take much effort for them to close the doors. Even when he drove, his dad wasn't taking up most of the space in the cabin, which was nice.

"So... What's the ryncol for?"

"Gifts, and to pass the time. It's been a month since I got news from the rest of the pack. I need to be kept up to speed. But they talk on and on, so Ryncol."

Beneath Kror's fingers, the engine purred and vibrated. The battery was almost dry, but buying a spare was possible... Or getting a charge while waiting for clients.

Alhough, all those worries disappeared when the vehicle lifted off and glided through the air. Leaving only Remus and his father in the tight volume, shoulder to shoulder.

Usually, they chatted or chanted together to human music, but the car was dead silent today on their way to the meeting spot. Which, instead of a disaffected parking lot, was the back alley of a cheesy strip club. A place that employed only Humans and Asaris, with enough music to hide the prostitution. Nothing interesting for Remus as he stood by the car along with his Dad, near stinking refuses. There was no Blood Pack in sight despite being deep within their territory.

"So... uh."

"Hmm?"

"Targ. He was a fling of yours?" asked Remus, arms crossed while the car's engine purred in his back. As a security measure, they had kept the keys on the contact, but only the door behind him unlocked. No one else could enter without them noticing. Either him... Or his dad nursing on a bottle of Ryncol while on a crate. Ryncol, pure Krogan alcohol... A liver killer.

"Not a fling. We fucked when we were young, before our initiation. We used to be of the same clan until..."

"Until?"

"Eh, until we got stomped by the leader of our clan and banished. Then we stopped fucking because he's a nasty cunt who accused me of messing with our ammo."

"You did?" asked the Turian with a lifted eyebrow, knowing his father's tendency to tinker.

"Not at all... ... Barely."

"You're an idiot, Dad."

The old Krogan chuckled, though he tensed when Remus sat by him, pushing aside the Ryncol.

"We needed more firepower, and he said at any cost. But the jamming wasn't my fault."

"I believe you."

Beyond the back alley, people were running towards and from the strip club. Supposedly, it was the morning, but Omega's way of life always opposed the circadian cycle. So it surprised no one to see night shift workers enjoying their drinks in the early morning.

In comparison, Remus and Kror's way of life was an oddity, but they were sticking to the rules within the Fumi district... The district where they had been living together for the last years, in the filth and dirt.

"Hey... Dad. I got an offer," blurted Remus, leaning forth and holding onto his knees.

"From Legius? If it's again for the Blue suns, I'll smack you, Son."

"No! It's from someone else. You know the guy who had that suitcase with all the vials? He con-"

"Wait. Not now."

Suddenly stiff, Kror jumped off the crate. And Remus had to turn his eyes toward his father... Which directed him to notice the reason for that sudden change. There was a couple of Vorchas at the entrance of the back alley, holding their weapons. And their portent presence annunciated the arrival of their Krogan leaders.

Small, purple hump, twitches from the creeper, dry lips... Red and blood-injected eyes. Targ. And his entourage. Krogans, same selves who darted infuriated eyes at Remus.

They were the kind who hated Turians, and it was obvious from their attitude. In opposition, the young lad remained on his crate and tried to make himself smaller or busy himself by checking his empty messages. He wasn't going to bother his father's meeting more than necessary. And... He pondered on if he still needed to tell it all to his old man. It could be a simple job, nothing important, perhaps nothing had to be said.

But as he ruminated, the Krogans spoke together, grumbling like old machines while their bellows filled the silence. Krogans always spoke in a guttural speech whenever they wanted a private discussion, which often messed with translation software. The lower they went, the more it was understood as white noise instead of a real conversation. A trick often used in the Blood pack.

And Targ's glances at Remus indicated the reasons why they spoke that way, ignoring the fact Remys was apt to understand that speech.

He had to learn it after he had imitated one of his father's growls during one of their fights. And the smack from it, he still felt it after all those years. Insulting a Krogan's bloodline was always a poor choice, even if inadvertently.

Remus grinned at that memory.

"Why is the Turian looking at me funny? Again you bring that shame!"

"He's Turian but my blood, my son. Respect him or regret it, Targ. I have no patience for your japing. Where are Goalth and Urer? They can't be both missings."

"Killed by a blue sun, Turian. The pack is frothing for blue blood."

It explained why that guy seemed so angry but didn't excuse his cuntish attitude towards Remus. And the Turian sniffed.

"The Pack is always looking for blue blood. It is never enough for you. Why I wasn't warned? And where is my last payment?"

Uh-oh, so it never arrived at Kror in the end.

"Don't know. Ask your Turian. He dealt with it."

"Bullshit, Targ. Where is my payment?"

"I don't have it."

"You don't have it, or you stole it? What will it be today? Money is for the Blood Pack? Give it to me, and you'll get your weapon."

Remus listened to the conversation as the tension arose. Targ and Kror were almost head-butting one another. None of the two bore weapons, but Targ's escort did. They were packing iron, mass-produced shit from Elkoss combine. Always mass-produced shit from Elkoss, except cars.

Slowly, Remus scooted away... Only for his ass to meet with the bag of Ryncol. Some bottles were empty, most still full. Or half-full.

And... He felt it, the weight of the vial within his vest.

"You're going too far, Kror! The Blood Pack pass before us!"

"And I'm no part of it, and you know why! Now, send the credits or I'll-"

"Dad, I think you all need some Ryncol."

With the bag in hand, Remus approached the quatuor of Krogans glancing at him, an extraneous presence in a mix-up of the Blood Pack. But what he brought was to be a social lubricant, cheap Krogan alcohol closer to motor oil than to moonshine.

And from the bag, he pulled the remainder of Kror's reserve as he gifted his father one bottle, who looked at it and groaned.

"Remus, the fuck are you doing?"

To the question, Remus shrugged and offered the bottles to each Krogan, leaving a half-emptied one to himself.

"Heh, your Turian is going crazy," commented one of the escorts, a green Krogan who was way too young, his crest barely solidified.

"Aye, you don't want your "Dad" to be hurt?" added the second in a guffaw.

But then, Remus brought the liquid to his lips and grimaced once the almost pure alcohol went down his throat. It burned, it was disgusting. But he swallowed it with a visible wince. And those brutes all laughed except Kror, whose stoic expression hid his concerns.

"I'm surprised my Dad hasn't asked me to get him the bottle, you talked so much and he's so bored at those mythics. 'Sure, he wanted to keep it all for himself."

"Did not."

"Aye, you did. Because you don't want to share the good stuff with your friends. That's what you told me? They're your friends, right?"

"That's how you're training your pup, Kror? He is stupid, too stupid for his own good."

"Shut up, Targ. Do what I told you."

Kror returned to Remus, his nostrils flared. All the while, the Turian kept acting innocent as he took another sip, and throttled another cough. Around them, the other krogans were done sniffing their drinks and were taking swig on it. And they were eager to empty their bottle of moonshine. They even ignored the young adult who was staggering between them.

"Damnit," grumbled Kror as he took the bottle off Remus' hands before throwing it away.

The CLANK from the broken glass resonated within the stilled alleyway before he screamed out loud: "Targ. If you send me half of the money right now, I'll forgive you for cheating. Until then, no weapons."

With that, Kror grabbed the Turian's shoulders and ushered him to the car.

"That's right. Your pup needs to learn when to let the grown-ups talk! Tell him never to come back alone! It's dangerous for Turians!"

Targ gloats were insufferable for Kror, who raised a finger towards the man before he pushed Remus inside the car. He let the young man stumble and land on the passenger's seat, then sat behind the wheel. And turned on the engine.

Behind them, the Blood pack members laughed their asses off, and their guttural voices meant nothing good. Kror growled, closed the door, and turned on the onboard computer. Without further ado, the car lifted off the ground and accelerated far from that terrible alleyway.

But on the passenger's seat, Remus looked... Not good. Sweat poured on his face, his eyes danced left and right. That tiny body, in comparison, shivered and slouched over the leather seat.

He looked sick already, and yet... The Turian laughed.

"What the fuck, Remus? You want to die? With Targ! He's of those who hate Turians."

"Hehehe, I know... Such a creep, taking creep," moaned Remus through his laughter, his temple pressed against the window. "I dealt with him last time, told youuu. I... He did not pay you?"

"No. But that's not the issue right now! What came through your mind?!"

The laughter evolved into a roar as the Turian's head tilted to the left and was turned to Kror with half-closed golden eyes. His trembling hand fumbled in his pocket, but they extracted a vial from his vest, emptied.

Kror's eyes opened before he raised his hand and slapped Remus behind the head, below the crest.

"Gods! Help me with that child!"

"It's fine!" grumbled the Turian while stroking the sore spot. "Look at you! You're fineeee after what... Three days? Like? It's a cure!"

"I'm not fine! Fuck, Remus!... Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The Krogan hit the dashboard with both hands, repeating that exact words without managing to give a sense of what he thought. His fists were closed, his arms tense... And below, he sensed the plastic crack.

"Remus! It's... It's a fucking torture! I can't control myself! I'm! I'm going crazy, Son!"

Remus looked at him with wide eyes, seemingly sobered up. The instant after, his cheeks filled, and he swallowed back the content of his stomach, with a pathetic mewl.

"Yeah, you are regretting it, don't you? Fucking genius, you'll get a damned allergic reaction and be a mess for the whole week!"

"Urgh... I wanted to get back at him... And for him to be more nice... Next time."

"In what way it'll help him be "more nice"? Tell me."

"It's... It's a cure, Dad."

Remus slumped more, his whole body rolling against the seat as he fought the shivers. Alcohol absorption usually took longer, but with the pure mix of alcohol along with "a good old secret ingredient"; his body already reacted like an infection. And it wasn't pulling punches.

"A cure? Where do you get this idea? That's why you were out last night?"

Remus nodded to this, heaving as the car approached the Fumi district. And suddenly swerved to the right, beginning its round since the computer failed to find their parking spot.

"Fucking great..." mumbled Remus, holding his belly before he exhaled. "That guy told me it was a cure... For the Genophage. He told me... We would get paid if I gave him information on your state... Enough for us to get off that rock and get me an Amp."

Despite the pain, Remus glanced up at his father, who, too, was slumping in his seat. He did not fight against the car... His expressed abashed.

"I don't know if I should kick you in the ass or hug you, son. You are so stupid."

"Heh... I learned that from you," he added before another smack hit the back of his head. And he laughed again, softly. "Ouch! Heh... Please, Dad. Get us home now, or I will throw up... In the car."

And throw up... He did.

Though just in time outside the car. When they landed, Remus ran out of the car toward the nearest banister. And graced someone below with a blend of fruit juice and Ryncol. Then, he fell and leaned against the barrier, all to look up: there stood his Dad before him.

In that position, he was able to notice it: the clenched fists, the trembling arms and legs... Even the eyebrows twitched. During all that time, Kror had been sick. Probably worse than him even now, but he said nothing.

"Are you sure it's real? And not a weapon or some shit?"

"Dunno," grumbled Remus as he placed his neck against one cold rusty beam. "But he seemed rich, serious. And terribly afraid if someone found he had created it. You're not dying, right?"

"Less than you. You went through this to spike their drinks."

"Targ's drink. I imagine that guy will pay me more for this."

"... You are an idiot."

That time, Remus felt he deserved a smack behind the head. But it didn't come. Instead, warm massive hands wrapped around his shoulders and guided him back home, in the elevator, through their door... And toward his bed.

It all felt like a daze. He remembered his dad talking, but couldn't understand; only nodded. And he didn't feel any difficulty sleeping. Though, when he woke up, he still felt shivers coursing through his arms.

A moment of daze passed as he heard something sizzling outside, followed by something smelling wonderfully good. His nose picked it up, and he followed. His erratic steps guided him forward like someone who hadn't eaten in a day.

His stomach growled, his spindly legs wobbled until he reached the door and exhaled. He opened it up and marched while leaning against the drywall separating the living room to the corridor leading to all the other pieces... Besides the workshop. Up until the wall disappeared: replaced by the sight of Kror in the kitchen, cooking.

With nothing to cover his naked body.

And Remus couldn't stop himself from detailing that view: that wagging tail; those round, enormous, and slightly sagging buttocks; that hole in between, quivering and needy. In the artificial light, the dark rim looked both swollen and glistening.

"Already awake?"

Pulled from his thought, the Turian faced his Dad, his eyes darted above his shoulders. He was cooking something in a pan, but there were fumes from burnt oil too. It was probably a fail, but it smelled so good, somehow. But when he looked away from the meal, it was to notice that wry grin from Kror.

"Careful, Son, you'll impale someone with that."

A raised eyebrow, a lowered gaze... And Remus grumbled. His cock bulged, and a wet spot had formed at the tip of it. Something ashaming. But they had done worse together. The Turian forced his hands aside and wobbled towards the kitchen counter to lean over it.

He watched his father cook some vegetables, frying them while adding sauce from a bowl. But he was cooking on Remus's side.

"You know... It's been a while since you cooked for me," mused the turian, extending his arms and resting his chin on them.

"Last time. You got food poisoning from a shady place and couldn't move. Soups are easy to make."

"Yeah... Open the brick, pour it into a pot, heat it. Done."

"I added cream, you need more fat."

"I'm not a Krogan, I don't need a hump," playfully answered Remus. His eyes wandered to his Dad's apron: a pink apron Remus had offered to Kror when he was ten. A bright pink fabric on which had been printed "Kiss the cook". With all the current situation, his past silliness looked like a presage.

But then, he saw his Dad's bulge. And by returning to his old man's face, there was that twinging jaw.

"You know. I thought you were done with it, you are hiding it too well now."

"Hmmm. It's like when I was rutting. Almost your age. Well, double your age, you get the meaning. Lifespan, yada yada. It's like that period, but different. I was surprised the first day, but I can manage now."

"Erf."

Remus exhaled, pushed his forehead against the metal counter, feeling its chill touch spread to his exoskeleton.

"What will we do with the... Stuff? The cure?" pried the Krogan, the sizzling sound diminished.

"Velius... The odd guy. He'll probably want them back. Don't know if that's a good thing."

"It is not. But if that's what you need to finally have your amp and stop taking Dust in my house."

Remus suddenly perked up, his eyes meeting his Dad's as the Krogan displayed that teasing grin.

"I know, son. Dust has a strong scent. It'll kill you... I'm sorry I couldn't have paid you an Amp."

Remus shrugged.

"It's fine. I should have told you about this. And for the trick with Targ."

"Excused, because you're in such a pitiful state. But next time, tell me before you poison yourself with Ryncol."

Kror turned off the stove, put the vegetables on a plate. His other hand threw the oily pan onto the pile of dirty dishes. Meanwhile, a finger directed Remus to the sofa while the Krogan finished his preparation. And arrived on the couch with their meals, the cutlery, and their drinks. For Kror: it was a half-cooked steak and a beer, while Remus had the honor of fried vegetables with a homemade sauce, its scent filling the room.

"If you see me near a bottle of it, smack me, Dad. Right in the neck," commented Remus as he dug in his plate. Only to freeze as he heard a guffaw from the large Krogan beside him.

"I'll do. But I may hit you if I see you fiddling with that cure. A horny Krogan is enough for Omega."

"Pfff. Figure. You're constantly naked... Wait, you're wearing an apron."

To this jape, Kror answered with a growl and leaned back, exhaling.

"You're terrible."

"You know, we could use some of Velius' money to get you an Asari whore until you recover from it."

Remus mused... Before he yelped in pain from the smack behind his head from his Dad.

"Okay, a human- Ouch! I'm joking!"

"You say that because you can't admit you want me."

Suddenly, Remus froze... And looked to his Dad, who was still grinning. No, smug. A smug bastard.

"I have an excuse to pop a boner, not you. Especially when looking at my ass," added the old man while leaning over and groping the Turian's groin.

"Wasn't you who was sniffing my underw- Hrmphh," gasped the young Turian as his old man began to pull down his tight and damp pants. Beneath, his cock was stiff but leaking, coating the underwear while it pulsed and radiated with heat. Kror's hand did not help since that bastard had slid his fingers in the underwear and knew how to wrap them around that needy scrotum and press the palm against the cock.

A devious stroke rewarded by a wince and a moan from the Turian, his cutlery falling onto the plate right as his mandibles clicked: "Fu- Hhh... Kror."

"Who taught you to be such a pansy? Not me," jested the Krogan as he leaned further, squeezing the Turian's groin. "I know you're eyeing my ass. And having you fucking me was good... Stop acting like an idiot and admit."

Remus squirmed and trembled, his jaw clenched. His father's hand moved away from the groin, pulling down the final barrier until Remus' cock sprung out in the open. Without barrier, without limit.

That girthy blue cock at full mast, those black testicles hanging loose... Both lathered with sweat and precum. A monument of Turian virility before the Krogan went on his knees and elbows, thrusting his head against the groin.

In his haste, Kror's hump nearly grazed his son's chest. However, Remus finally gave up and leaned back on the sofa. His golden eyes were on the massive Krogan, who worked like a crazed addict: heaving and moaning at the mere inhalation of that pure Turian musk. His Dad inhaled, then exhaled. Following each cycle was a warm caress from that breath onto the elongated quivering organ.

Until those warm lips wrapped over the length.

In one second, the Krogan had slurped all the length down, and the poor Turian had to grip his father's back and the sofa armrest. Kror's suctions were like a hard vacuum, teasingly toying with the whole cock. The sensation gripped Remus' shaft, tantalized him. His teeth gritted his lips, his mandibles clicked.

Below him, he heard his father gawk when the tip pushed the uvula, a more rigid sensation compared to the tongue that had been danced against his glans. At this stage, Kror could have stopped.

Although, the Krogan did not. He kept pushing. He kept lowering his head until his nostrils rubbed against Remus' thighs... And those wet lips kissed the base of his dick.

The Turian exhaled, his breath uncontrolled.

His jaws tensed, his fingers dug deeper into the flesh and fabric. His toes curled, his knees cracked gently... But his father did not relent, as saliva coated that dick. Hands slid onto those testicles, played and tugged on them ceaselessly. They pinched and pulled, pressed and squeezed. Relentless, Kror worked and teased his son while he bobbed his head up and down. All while his rigid frame stopped Remus from moving, whether an arm or chest.

And soon, the gurglings from the Krogan drowned the presence of the television, dissipated all semblance of normality as Remus let go... His head moved back, his eyes closed, his cocktip exploded.

His scrotum was so taut, his lower belly so tense. But spurts of viscous fluids flowed from his cock into his father's mouth. His hips bucked so imperceptibly he couldn't count how many spurts he produced. But it didn't count... It didn't matter.

Bliss, pleasure, beatitude. Remus sighed, his legs relaxed, so did his arms.

Below him, the gurgling sounds had abated, reduced to a faint breath from Kror until those lips moved up. They didn't open, so their clenched presence rubbed against the whole and raw length until that cock was left cleaned up, spotless even.

And no order had been given for Kror to lean and deposit a kiss onto Remus' testicles, gracing each sweaty orb with a delicate touch.

There, Remus opened his eyes to his father's wry attitude, the old man straightening. The smirk, the raised left brow, the teeth gleaming between the pulled lips. Even his puffed-up chest came from pride and curiosity towards Remus as he huffed... And coughed.

"So? How was it?"

"... I was eating, Dad."

Kror deflated as he watched his kid grab his plate and slouch on the sofa until he could depose the meal onto his belly without it tilting. And all... With his junk and balls out.

"You're giving nice heads. But you have a terrible timing."

He said with a scowl... Which broke right when he glanced at Kror's defeated expression: his mask shattered. That old man wanted to be so sexy and suave, but missed it!

"You- Arh! Remus, you're an ass!" exploded the old man by raising his arms... And let them fall, returning to his meal. The mood irremediably killed.

"We should work a schedule... I can't live with the threat of being sucked off at the worst moment."

The comment, son of levity, was met with a growl and again that defeated scowl.

Which gave the opportunity to Remus to turn toward his father. He raised a hand and stroked that hunched back since the Krogan was eating from the small table.

And that time, he wanted to be serious.

"You really want this, Dad? I mean, it could be the hormones speaking... Or the convenience."

The cutlery rattled, left off again.

"Remus... Can you stop joking for once?"

"I am. I am not mocking you, Dad."

The Krogan turned his head, faced him. Especially with those perplexed red eyes.

"I am into Krogans, you know it. And I don't mind being with you, the contrary. You're a hardhead, but I love you. I don't want it to be... Forced, you know."

"Like you spiked Targ's drink?"

"I didn't plan to fuck him. And you inflicted it yourself!"

Now, it was the turn of Remus to talk back, his voice serious. And his father mellowing it at the accusation. But as Kror was about to reply, Remus lifted a finger.

"I don't dislike it, to be clear. It can be a chance... For us to have something nice. But I want to be sure you want it."

"I want. I truly want, since you've been with your boyfriend. That guy, Rahn."

"Pff," chuckled Remus. He straightened up, returned the plate to the small table. "He's not my boyfriend... Well, I banged him. But it was to have him around without you beating his ass."

"What? Why?"

"Because he's the guy who sold me Dust. There has never been anything between us except some casual sex."

Silence fell onto the apartment, except for the Television adds Remus cut off with a sweep of his omnitool. They were two idiots facing one another.

Remus chuckled: "You feel stupid, don't you?"

"... Kind off."

"Well, if you want to have some fun. Let me eat while you go get the toys you keep in your workshop."