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Tuchanka Dreaming

By Jae Gungriff

_Clik-click… _

tik-tik-tik…

Klack!

SHA-SHCK!

There, done. If there was ever a drawback to being a krogan, if one could even imagine such a thing, it was their larger fingers. As such a gun-loving species, it was sort of ironic how difficult it can be to modify and maintain a weapon without those big digits getting pinched by something. Not that it hurt or anything, just annoying. It really sucks get a weapon all nice and clean just to ruin all that hard work by gunking it up with your own blood. The only fluids that should be allowed on a gun— well, outside of specialty oils and grease— was the blood of your enemies! Not your own. That's just embarrassing.

Frid turned his shotgun around in his hands, checking it over again for the 14th time in the past hour. It was a M-300 Claymore gifted to him by his father as a “Christmas" present, the traditional Earth holiday he'd grown fond of since he'd started living there. It was a basic model, nothing too fancy, but Frid doted on it like it was his own child, his pride and joy. Even years later, he kept it as pristine as the day it came out of the box, consistently buffing the steel with a fine cloth designed to bring a mirror finish to the metal, always mindful of the lubrication levels and ensuring the barrels were clean of dirt and other nastiness. Day after day, the same routine of cleaning, brushing, and whispering sweet nothings to it, waiting for the moment when he could wield its mighty form in battle, cutting down his foes until he could stand over a pile of their corpses, Claymore held high above his head in victory.

Today was that day. A real, true battle, not those pansy-ass holographic targets at the firing range. Finally, an opportunity to test his merit in the field, his trusty blaster leading the charge. It was going to be glorious! The thought itself made his hands tremble with anticipation…

Yeah, joining N7 was definitely one of the best decisions he's ever made.

Frid glanced down at his weapon again, face full of respect and pride. He caught his reflection in the steel, emerald green eyes staring back at him. He tilted his chin up to the left then right, rechecking the condition of the protruding horned chin plated that ran along the underside of his jaw. Yep, still filed and polished, sleek as can be. He smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth that gleamed in the dim interior lights of the shuttle. The shine of enamel contrasted nicely against the color of his thick-scaled hide. From what he was told, it was a pretty rare for a krogan of his age to have plates with darker colors rather than brighter pastels like yellow, orange or red, sometimes even white or pink. So a young guy like him having deep-green-to-almost-black hues with an iridescent luster really made him stand out. In the good way, of course. Hello, handsome~

He shot his reflection another trademark shark-smile, manipulating the shotgun-mirror around to triple check that the rest of him was still looked presentable to the enemy whose heads he would inevitably stomp into meat confetti. As the reflection came upon the large head crest adorning his forehead and scalp like a crown, he glowered at the reflection of a minor scrape etched into upper half. He ran a finger over the slight gouge with a resentful click of his tongue. Not painful, really, but more of a gaudy reminder of how not to look like an idiot in the future.

When he first stepping into the shuttle he bonked his head on the hatch frame. He quickly played it off and stepped inside like nothing happened. If anyone else on board noticed, no one said anything. Probably because laughing at a krogan wasn't the best way to secure one's future as an existing, living organism. It wasn't his fault he inherited his dad's freakish giant stature. Currently at seven feet, nine inches tall, Frid was still growing. Maybe he gained an inch or two since he last set foot in one of these things. It was only, like, 15 years ago. Or his head crest got bigger and he just didn't notice. That could be it, right?

Anyway, great first impression. Awesome.

Frid huffed and stowed his shotgun under his lower back below his large back hump, letting it attach magnetically to his armor. He glanced down his front out of habit, always making sure his defense looked as good as his offense. He grumbled at flecks of white dotting the orange and black stripped breastplate, his two favorite colors, powdered over with unsightly buffing residue. He brushed his front clean of polish dust and shifted his legs anxiously. How much longer was this stupid flight going to take? He felt he should be killing things by now. Frid wasn't the best with boredom, and right now this place was snooze city. Outside of the muffled roar of the engines and winds buffeting the hull, the only other sound was the occasional banter between the shuttle pilot and passenger in the cockpit.

Frid greeted them briefly upon boarding before quickly claiming a bench seat and hyper-focusing on his Claymore again. The pilot was salarian named Fendi, colored muddy red with orange highlights and kitted out in slate-gray and white trimmed armor. Slender, like most of his kind, and looked rather young, and judging by the higher pitch of his voice, even by the standards his amphibious species, he must have just come of age to join the war effort. Also like the rest of his species, he can't seem to shut the hell up. He discussed everything from the reaper invasion of Palaven to inconsistencies of hanar anatomy in Blasto movies. Otherwise the kid seemed rather harmless. Certainly inexperienced. Which made Frid wonder why someone like him would even fathom going near a fight like the one that awaited them.

Mentally, Frid shrugged. He was sure the salarian had his reasons, but decided to keep close tabs on him during the melee. He may not be soldier material but not everyone was born to fight in a war. Except for krogan. It's kind of their thing. Plus it's good for morale to watch each others back; it's the foundation of a strong team.

And the idea of leaving someone behind on the battlefield left a bad taste in his mouth, too. Even if he was a salarian.

Frid knew that if he did choose to bail on any salarian in a middle of a firefight, other krogan wouldn't bat an eye at his actions, most would probably approve. Frid did not share their sentiment. The salarians who originally created and released the genophage have been dead for decades, centuries even! It didn't feel right to blame the current generation on something their predecessors did. So for now, this salarian was under his watch, at least until he could handle himself in a battle. However, if Fendi turns out to be a complete dickhead, then yeah, maybe he'd consider ditching him. Still probably wouldn't though. Not in his nature.

Next to Fendi in the co-pilot's seat, not doing any co-piloting whatsoever, feet kicked up on the dashboard and chewing on what appeared to be a wooden toothpick, was a batarian named Ranz. Now this guy, Frid could tell he's seen some action. His red armor was scratched up as if tumbled in a dryer and plates pockmarked with mended bullet holes. He appeared to be older, late 40s or so judging by the crow's feet at the corners of his four black, world-weary eyes, and by his thinner face, accented by sharp edges that younger batarians lacked.

The aura he gave off was a mixed bag though. It was clear by how he held himself and how he spoke that he wasn't someone to you'd want on your bad side. Frid knew it was a solid bet that out of everyone on the shuttle, Ranz was the guy with the highest body count. Yet at the same time, the batarian came off as… oddly chill. Calm as water on a still lake. Zen-like, even. Batarians were the furthest kind from zen as krogan were from ballet dancers.

Very interesting fellow, Frid deduced. No need to keep an eye on this one during the mission. Dude knew how to kill a guy with one hand and tend to a sand garden with the other at the same time.

From where Frid sat, he heard Fendi groan in aggravation at his console. “Come on, you rusty twenty-year-old hunk of crap! Go faster!"

Ranz sighed softly, and Frid could tell by the batarian's reflection in the windshield glass that he was slightly displeased at being disturbed, only bothering to partially open one of his four dark-colored eyes to side-glance at the salarian. “Why are you so eager to get to the battlefield anyways? People tend to die in those, you know.

Fendi looked at Ranz like he was mildly offended. “Seriously? Giant AA guns, man. What's not to look forward to?"

Ranz hummed. “Fair enough."

Okay, Frid had to admit, Fendi had a point. Big ass AA guns had to be cooler to see up close than in extranet pictures. In fact, those same guns are why Frid was sitting in this shuttle in the first space.

He was briefed on their mission on the warship earlier that morning. Their mission was codenamed Firebase Giant and was located on Frid's mother planet, Tuchanka. Apparently this extremist group calling itself Cerberus was causing trouble down there, hijacking old krogan military installations left over from the Krogan Rebellions war. Even after all these centuries, they still worked, a testament to krogan technological prowess left to rot from infighting and stupid decisions. Somehow, they got those old cannons back online and working again, targeting allied forces and Tuchanka's infrastructure. And there were hundreds of these places dotting Tuchanka's irradiated landscape, all getting seized by these pro-humanity wackjobs.

Frid didn't know much about Cerberus, but that was enough for him to want to tear their spines out. Granted, he hadn't spent much time on Tuchanka, living most of his life off-world, but still, it was his home planet.

It was a personal attack on all krogan. It needed to be stopped.

HQ's strategy was simple yet direct, Frid's favorite kind of task. Rout Cerberus, regain control of the cannons, and if unable to reclaim, disable them by any means necessary. Easy-peasy. Frid was hoping for the second option because that meant explosives, and he really liked fireworks.

Minutes after getting their orders they were hustled onto the shuttle, and here they were, on their way planetside. And still not there yet.

“Come on already…" Frid muttered under his breath.

“Hey!" a squeaky voice sounded from the cockpit. Fendi. “Hey, krogan!"

Frid sneered at the salarian. “The name's Frid, tadpole."

“Right, right." Fendi didn't even notice the insult. “What's Tuchanka like? Anything we'll need to know about?"

Frid shrugged. “No? I haven't really seen much of the planet myself."

“What?! But it's your home planet. Don't your kind have rites to do there to become “true krogan" or whatevs?

“Well, yeah. It's called the Rite of Passage, but I didn't grow up on Tuchanka. I just went there a few times as a kid then later for the rite. Once I completed it, I left the same day."

“Oh. Did you complete it?"

Frid narrowed his eyes at the back of Fendi's head. “What do you think?"

Fendi hummed in mock thought. “I'm going to say yes. With flying colors"

“Damn right I did," Frid smirked.

Fendi huffed. “Eh, maybe our fourth knows more about Tuchanka than him."

A snort of a laugh came from the batarian next to Fendi. “Ask him, why don't ya? I'm sure he'd love tell you in great detail."

Fendi glanced over his shoulder at the figure sitting directly across from Frid, gave him a quick once over, then returned to looking busy at his console.

“Nnnah, I'll find out for myself," he said, slightly unsettled by what he saw.

Now it was Frid's turn to regard the shadowed form sitting on the bench opposite him. A human, destroyer-class soldier judging by the jet-black heavy armor set, N7 logo emblazoned onto the right chest plate. Frid didn't know the man's name as he hadn't said a word since they departed the base ship, and he emitted a rather menacing aura to say the least. Quiet as a mouse and still as a statue, his frame barely rocked when the shuttle lurched with heavy turbulence. Frid wondered for a moment if maybe he was asleep. Yet his gut told him the human was very much awake and aware of everything, eyes locked onto the larger-than-average krogan across the way that was currently sizing him up. If it weren't for the fact they were on the same team, Frid would have considered the way the human was acting as an act of provocation, a challenge to duel. But that notion was dismissed rather quickly. Frid had the feeling if this guy wanted to fight, he would've already taken a swing by now. He didn't seem the type to hesitate.

Lots of questions and very few answers surrounding this mystery soldier. But there was one thing Frid was sure of. This guy had to be the biggest god damn human Frid had ever seen. He wasn't as tall as Frid, or as broad, but he wasn't far off. Even while sitting, Frid could tell that the soldier was at least seven feet tall. Having lived on Earth practically his entire life, Frid had seen quite a few humans, so he knew a seven foot tall behemoth of a man was not typical of the species. He had the bulk to match, too. Again, not like a krogan, leaner, but still a big fucking dude. His armor had very little slack around his body, tight-fitting to his frame. Had to be all muscle under there, no padding or filler. That armor had its work cut out for it to contain it all. Frid hummed in approval. Very nice.

The butt of Striker battle rifle peeked out from behind his shoulder, his large torso blocking the view of the rest. Frid fired one of those once. Krogan-made. It didn't quite have the kick of a Claymore, but it was certainly nothing to sneeze at. The human also had a M-6 Carnifex on his hip, which likewise packs a punch. If this soldier was issued such weapons— very expensive weapons, mind you- he had to be worth shelling out the credits for. Honestly, Frid wouldn't be surprised if the man could fire either weapon single handed. So, he had the strength to back up the brawn and the height. A rare breed, for sure.

He was probably the closest his kind had ever come to being an actual krogan. Humans as a whole were not going to win a fistfight against krogan, but this one would come really close. That spoke volumes to Frid.

This human was truly a prime example of his species.

Yep. Frid wanted to fuck him. A lot. Right now. Super hard. Get those pre-fight jitters out of his system before the big show.

But Frid reeled those thoughts in before they got too vivid. He had to maintain some level of decorum. Can't just ask a guy if he could jump his bones right our of the blue like that, even though he really, really wanted to. Admittedly, sometimes Frid thinks with the wrong head when he meets someone as… well, perfect for him as this human was. Ticked all the boxes. He refused to screw it up by being a horny idiot. Manners make the man, as his dad used to say. Sometimes, that was true.

He had to talk to the human first. Take it slow, get to know him a little. You know, warm him up a bit, loosen the bolts some. That is if he can get the human to actually speak to him. Frid wasn't the best at breaking the ice, but if this wasn't worth the effort, he didn't know what was.

Frid cleared his throat to get the soldier's attention. If it worked or not, Frid couldn't tell; the man still stiff as a board and silent as one too.

“Hey, soldier, I didn't catch your name when we got on board. In case you didn't hear it earlier, mine's Bragus Frid. Care to share?"

The human remained silent. Perhaps being more direct would work.

“Okay, guess not. I'll come up with a nickname for you, just like I did Tadpole and Trobror over there," Frid thumbed to the side at the cockpit.

Ranz glanced back at Frid. “I get why he's tadpole, but why am I whatever that word was you just said?"

“Trobror means ash pile," Frid filled in. “You smell like cigar smoke."

Ranz grinned at Frid and took his feet down from the dash. He dug around inside a pocket hidden behind a armored plate on his hip, and from there he withdrew an aged cigar that looked like it had been lit several times before. He wiggled it between his fingers at Frid, shifting the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other.

“Good nose," he said, tucking the stogie back in the pocket and kicking his feet back up. “Good nickname too, I'll take it. Makes me sound tough."

Frid grinned back even through Ranz had already turned around. He guessed he made a solid first impression after all. He returned to talking to the soldier, but hesitated when he saw the man's helmeted head turn back from looking at the cockpit to regard him at the same time. The first time he'd seen the human move. Hah! Making progress. Frid made another attempt at banter.

“Okay let's try this again. How long have you been an agent with N7? Were you with them before the war or did you join up after?"

The man was still silent. Fine then, time to amp things up. Time to “poke the bear" as humans say.

“Not much of a talker, are you. Look, I just to know one thing. These Cerberus people, they're pro-human to a nasty degree. Since you're the only human here, there won't be any problems will there?"

That did something. The human's helmet tilted ever so slightly to the side, as if a bit puzzled by Frid's question. Frid decided to clarify.

“Listen, all I care about is if thing get heated down there, you'll have my back just like I plan to have yours, and those two over there probably."

Fendi cut in, “Gee, thanks Frid. Good to know you're looking out for the only guy who knows how to fly this scrapheap."

Ranz shot a grin at Fendi. “I know how to fly a shuttle."

“You do?" Fendi asked in genuine surprise. Ranz's grin got wider in confirmation. “Well you didn't need to tell him that, come on!"

Frid rolled his eyes. “Relax will ya? Nobody's going to die on this mission, not if I can help it. Even you."

Fendi blinked dumbly at the krogan. “Oh. Good. Thanks? I guess."

Ranz chimed in. “Yeah, same here. Having a krogan back me up will make this job a lot easier."

“You're very welcome," Frid replied, honestly a little flattered. “This works both ways don't forget. I'm tough, but I'm not invincible. Close, but not invincible."

Fendi scoffed, “A humble krogan. Who would've imagined."

Frid batted a hand in Fendi's direction to swat the compliment out of the air. “Bah. Just don't get blown up or anything, I can't save your asses if you get atomized.

“Three weeks."

All heads turned to the human. That was his voice. He said that.

“Uh, say again?" Frid asked dumbly, trying and failing not to sound as stunned as he felt.

“You asked how long I've been with N7. Three weeks." The man tilted his head again, this time in the other direction to a greater degree, obviously expressing his annoyance. “And no. There won't be a problem."

Frid felt his multiple hearts thump in his chest. The human's voice was gravelly and deep, yet somehow collected and refined. Nowhere near robotic as Frid expected it to be. It made a part of Frid's brain tingle he didn't know he had. He swallowed back the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and tried to stumble back into normal conversation.

“Oh. Good then. So are we going to get your name or…?"

The human paused, as if debating, then he decided.

“Tack," he said simply, expanding no further on the matter.

Finally! Frid visibly relaxed and leaning back against the hull. “Nice name. Even nicer now that I actually have something to call you by other than human or soldier."

“Huh, so he does speak," Fendi said. “I was beginning to think he was mute or had some kind of injury."

“Same. Try not to do that silent treatment shit, Tack," Ranz scolded over his shoulder. “You made things tense for no reason"

After a moment, Tack responded with a short nod. Probably the closest they were going to get to an apology, Frid decided it was better than nothing.

Okay, time to gather a little more info on this human— Tack.

“Now that we're actually communicating with our voices like most normal people do, tell us why you joined up. Or were you drafted?"

Tack shook his head. “I volunteered."

Frid raised a brow. “Really? The only people I've met who sign up for this stuff willingly are gung-ho patriot types, mercenaries making bank, or those looking for a good fight. The kind of guys looking for a way to prove to themselves and everyone around them that they are a warrior. I'm betting that last reason you're here."

“Yes," Tack replied without hesitation. A wide, toothy grin spread across Frid's face.

“Me too," he said in a camaraderie tone. “Been waiting a long time for this. A real fight against a worthy enemy! I'd more thankful the reapers and geth robots and these Cerberus assholes are giving me the opportunity, if they weren't such evil pieces of trash doing some of the worst things imaginable right now."

Frid's smile dried up. He saw the news reports about Earth and Palaven. The destruction in the vids was just… surreal. No one deserves to see their homeworld burn like that. Not turians, not salarians, not anybody. Frid shrugged the bad thoughts off and regained a sliver of a smirk.

“Still, now I can do some good as krogan, and I don't have to resort to mercenary work to stretch my legs. Not that I would if I could. That business always felt dishonorable to me. But even if I did, my sire wouldn't allow me to get mixed up in such things. Gotta keep the family image clean for the headlines, he'd always say. So outside of personal security or working as a bouncer at bars or clubs, there aren't many options for a krogan to feel the real thrill of a true battle. And those jobs seemed so… dull. This is much better! It's never boring. Plus I get to kick the shit of some bona fide galactic-threatening bad guys and help establish my species as a valuable ally at the same. What more could I ask for?"

Ranz snapped his fingers, pointing at Frid. “Now I remember. You said your name was Bragus Frid, right?"

Frid gave another toothy grin. “That's me!"

“I knew I heard that clan name before. Is your dad Bragus Thul?

Frid nodded vigorously. “Yup, he sure is! Proud to wear the name."

Fendi didn't hide his confusion, glancing between the two men. “Wait, who is Bragus Thul?"

Frid slapped his hands on his knees and threw his head back before belting out an exasperated groan. “Star quarterback for the New York Tigers? Best team in North-American-Union-Rules football?"

Frid's eyes dart back and forth between the others, getting no significant reaction from them. “Seriously?! Does no one in Citadel space watch Earth-based sports?!"

Frid sprung his feet with a heavy thump upon the metal flooring, arms outstretched wide with a huge grin slapped on his face, ready to address the crowd. “Imagine it! Superbowl CCXIX, reigning champs New York Tigers defend their title against the Beijing Dragons. Third quarter, Dragons lead in the score board, Tigers on offense. The most important play of the game is about to happen. The center snaps the ball into the hands of legendary QB Bragus Thul."

Frid quickly hopped to the side, cupping hands together and hauling back, miming an impending throw. “Lines up the throw down the field and—!" He lunges forward and heaves the invisible ball with so much momentum, he nearly charges into the cockpit. Fendi yelps and almost falls out of his seat in a mad scramble away from the incoming 800-some-pound krogan, while Ranz simply leaned back. Frid hits the brakes and halts abruptly between the two pilot seats, slapping his hands on the shoulders of the chairs.

“BOOM! Pigskin rockets 69-yards down range into the hands of the wide receiver!" Frid sticks his arms up in victory. “Touchdown! The crowd goes wild! Raaah~! Raaah~!"

Frid keeps his held arms high, making that raspy mock-cheer all the while strutting back to his bench, dropping down with a raucous laugh. “He rallies team and the Tigers win the game 24-19, highlight play of the season and one of the best matches that had ever graced the sport! You shoulda seen it!"

Frid checks Tack's reaction, but sees he's still motionless. Undeterred, he points at the human with a finger gun and clicks his tongue. “Football fan, are you?"

“No," he replied, blunt yet simple, no aggression in the tone. Just stating a fact.

Frid shrugged, letting it roll of his shoulders. “Your loss. It's a killer game."

Fendi peeks back over the headrest of his chair cautiously at Frid, then glances at Ranz. “He said a lot of words and I didn't understand any of them."

Ranz shrugs back at him. “Don't worry your little two-horned head about it," he then glanced back at Frid. “You got some spare credits on you, sports fan?"

Frid's grin went slack and offered the batarian a blank stare back. “Uh… no? Why?"

“Because I lost a 500 credit bet on that game. Since your papa is the reason I'm in the red, I could use some reparations."

Frid snorted a laugh, folding his arms and shooting back a bratty little smirk. “Sucks to be you. It's not my fault you bet on the wrong, clearly better team. What a shaaaame."

“Tigers." Tack again. All eyes went to him, his voice cut through the space like a knife. “Orange and black. Like your armor."

Frid glanced down his front. “Yeah I guess it's kind of tribute, but they're my favorite colors too, so it's a double bonus."

“The hell is a tiger, now?" Fendi asked.

Ranz groaned. “I know you're young, but aren't salarians supposed to know everything?"

The console pinged loudly, drawing Fendi away from the conversation. “One thing I do know is that our entry window is open, so you better gear up. Anyone who's not a krogan, masks on, we got radiation hazards. Descending from atmo in five, fellas!"

Ranz hauled himself from the co-pilots seat, backbones popping under his armor. “About fuckin' time, my legs were going numb." He walked past Frid and pulled a rifle and sidearm out from the gun locker. Looked like a Vindicator and N7 Eagle respectively. Not bad weapons. He also grabbed something else, metal scraping against the shelf before he pocketed it; Frid didn't get a good look at what it was.

As Ranz headed back to the cockpit, Frid noticed Tack was no longer sitting at his bench. A quick look about and Frid saw him standing to the left of him, waiting at the exit hatch with a hand gripping a strap handle hanging from the ceiling rack, staring forward at the closed doors. Tack walked right by him and didn't make a single sound, the realization sending a little shiver up Frid's spine. A good shiver though.

The shuttle lurched as it dropped through the rough skies of Tuchanka, hard enough that Frid had to catch himself from stumbling over as he stood up. He went to wait with Tack by the door, idly checking to see if there was any change in the man's demeanor. There was little, but Frid could sense the human radiating anticipation, his grab so tight on the strap above the cheap fabric creaked. Frid could relate. He drew his Claymore and checked it one more time. Heat sink in and ready to rock. Oh, this was going to be epic.

Frid slapped Tack on the back with a bark of a laugh. “If we make it out of this, maybe I can show you a recording of the game my dad played over a victory drink. I'll change your mind about the sport."

Tack's head turned only slightly to regard the krogan before returning to gazing headlong at the hatch. “We'll see," he said monotone.

The shuttle thudding to the ground at the landing zone, Fendi and Ranz swiftly filing behind the two larger men.

“All right," Ranz said, tone more dire and stern. “Remember the plan. Stick to it, we all get home safe."

Frid looked back at Fendi, worry creasing the salarian's brow. “Don't worry tadpole, I got ya."

It did little to ease his tension. “Thank you that's very thoughtful," Fendi replied quickly, the sidearm trembling in his hands.

Tack hovered a hand over the hatch release, then began the countdown. “Three. Two. One. Go."

The hatch flung open, and the four of them rushed out, Frid leading the way with a battle roar.

===

As fast as it began, it was over.

Frid barged into the shuttle, the last one on board. The shuttle's engines spooled up, and in seconds, they were airborne and speeding towards the secondary LZ. Frid's body felt like he'd been charged by a bolt of lightning, muscles in his arm and legs tingling in a way he never felt before. All of his hearts were pounding at full throttle and his ears were ringing from the din of gunfire. The armor he wore was scuffed and dust filled the crevices between the plates. Not even his gun was spared, the luster of the metal tarnished and the barrel needing to be replaced after being rammed into one too many Cerberus helmets. But none of that mattered.

Frid's smile was so wide and grand it almost hurt his face, every tooth that could be shown glinting as much as his emerald eyes. It was like he'd lived his dream. The fight was everything he expected. One to remember? Certainly. Glorious from beginning to end? Absolutely. But it was so much more than that. It was perfect.

As soon as they exited the shuttle, they came under fire. Fendi immediately activated his cloak and broke away from the group as planned. He took the high ground, circling around the enemy while the three on the ground level served as a distraction. Ranz, Tack and Frid spread out, Tack leading the charge directly into the mass of Cerberus soldiers.

Frid made his first kill in under a minute, Claymore blasting clean through the flimsy metal of a shield-wielding grunt. The man's body almost exploded in a spray of red mist. He wasn't sure how he'd feel about taking a life for the first time, but he didn't have time to savor it one way or the other. He reloaded. Blam! Reloaded. Blam! Cerberus peons dropped like flies. Sometimes we was even lucky enough to catch three with a single shot. His head rushed, pupils dilated, and his grin was almost maniacal. Yes, yes, yes! This was it! A true test of his strength.

He began to lose track of how many he cut down, only stopping to scoop up any dropped heat sinks and grenades from the dead. It was during those brief moments that he could check on the mayhem the other members of the squad were bringing down upon the enemy's heads.

Ranz was a joy to watch, clearly well-trained but not by any military or other legitimate means. He liked to fight dirty, shooting one foot soldier in the kneecap and using the man as a meat shield, popping two more bad guys with his handgun. Once the newly-bullet-riddled grunt-turned-buffer was no longer useful to him, Ranz dumped the still-living soldier to the ground and shot him point-blank through the helmet visor. The batarian spit his toothpick into the smoking hole of the broken glass that covered what remained of dead man's face, then casually walked on, firing his Vindicator from the shoulder. Nice.

Frid also found out what those metal things were that Ranz took out of the locker: throwing knives. Old school solid metal. He used them as often as he did the omni-blade fabricated from the omni-tool attached to his wrist. Whenever his mags ran dry, he fell back on the blades. Anyone in arm's reach got the omni-blade through the chest and anyone farther off gotta a knife through the helmet into the forehead. He nailed one guy off a ramp from at least 15-yards away. That was pretty cool.

Fendi for his part did what he could. He left proxy-mines along his route, another part of the strategy. While rest of the squad stayed on ground level, any Cerberus who retreated to get a better vantage point found the tops of all ramps and ladders rigged. Frid heard the random explosions from above, followed by a rain of dirt, stone and Cerberus parts. While cloaked, Fendi was pretty good at picking off embedded snipers with his suppressed M-11, leaving a mine under the body for someone to set off when they went for their dropped heat sinks. When the cloak need to recharge he'd take cover and lob grenades at the soldiers making up the defensive line from behind, occasionally popping up to take pot-shots with his Mattock. Frid was actually a little impressed. Fendi didn't look like much, but he must've been running those training sims day and night to get that proficient at killing. Maybe he saw it as like a video game or something. Regardless, he still looked plenty freaked out, at least he did whenever Frid spotted him with his cloak off. Everyone's gotta start somewhere, Frid guessed. He was green now, but given time, he'd get even better at it. He may start to even enjoy it.

But, as much he hated to admit it, Tack was the real MVP of this engagement. Frid had never seen a N7 Destroyer in action before but from what he gathered from talking to other squads they were heavy-duty but slower than regular soldiers from all that armor and heavy weapons they carry around and were basically walking tanks, their battlesuits fitted with eezo-driven gizmos that boosted their ability to haul around all the stuff. Once Frid saw Tack go to work on the enemy, he knew they were telling the truth about the tank part. But they were wrong about one thing.

Tack was NOT slow. He sprinted head-first into the melee like a bullet, crashing through their defenses. His Striker was unloaded directly into waves of Cerberus soldiers. He barely touched his side arm when he ran out of ammo, opting instead to use his fists and feet. Cerberus infantrymen were grabbed and thrown aside like rag dolls, shield-bearers had their barriers folded in half by a fierce forward kick and their owners flung back to stone walls and ricocheting over waist-high fallen pillars.

Frid was in awe of his brutality and grace on the battlefield. He gawked as Tack hurdled barriers like an Earth antelope over a log, sliding behind cover on his side and spinning upright with his back to the wall with the skill of a gymnast. When a grenade was thrown at his feet, Tack kicked it back with such force at the soldier who tossed that the thing smashed through the man's visor and lodged into his eye socket, very dead before the grenade had the chance to go off.

Tack didn't ease up. He blew the legs of a soldier with a blast from his Striker. The wounded man crawled towards the rifle knocked from his hands in the explosion, the stumps of his legs leaving behind a trail of blood in the dust. All the while, Tack watched him struggle, like a predator proud of its work as it watched its prey's futile attempts to escape. Tack took his time walking over to the downed soldier, the only time Frid saw him move slowly since the start of the gunfight. He stepped on the rifle just as the tips of the soldier's fingers touched it, before sliding it just out of reach. Then in a swift, fluid motion, Tack brought his boot up and stomped the back of the soldier's helmet, crushing the dude's head like a rotten Halloween pumpkin.

Wow. Tack really did not like Cerberus. Frid would almost feel bad for the headless ex-soldier, if not for the fact Cerberus was on Tuchanka specifically to fuck over his species by helping the reapers invade. Play stupid games, get your skull smashed by a pissed off N7 Devastator.

Tack didn't stop with that, though. He saved his best feat for last. By the time Fendi made it to the control station for the huge anti-aircraft guns and started his hack, Cerberus was on the ropes. In the span of ten minutes, they had to have lost over three-quarters of their ranks, the remaining infantry falling back and attempting to hold their position. This is when reinforcements arrived, with an extra surprise. An Atlas mech, a behemoth of a machine shaped like a person: two arms, two legs, a man in the control cockpit at the center, and most notably wielding a giant-ass arm cannon and wearing enough armor rival some Alliance star-fighters. The second that big sucker crash-landed in the middle of the battlegrounds, Tack starting hammering it with the Striker, mag dumping then reloading twice until the mass effect shields of Atlas broke.

Tack dropped his gun, rushed toward the mech, and in one of the most amazing and insanely erotic things Frid had ever seen, ramped over a stone barrier and jumped onto the frontal glass dome covering the cockpit of the Atlas, and began PUNCHING the windshield in! It gave way in three powerful hits. Tack reached inside, grabbed the panicking pilot by the collar of his armor, and flung him out to sail twenty feet away and land on top of another fleeing Cerberus soldier. Then Tack slid into the newly vacated pilot seat of the Altas— which Frid was surprised Tack could even fit into— and hijacked that bitch. He spun the mech's upper half around and then rained hell down on the reinforcements using their own weaponry. Irony at it's best.

Frid just about came at seeing this, sudden tightness forming behind the groin plate of his armor. But as he watched the hapless soldier cut down with cannon fire, stone cladding exploding from the walls in bursts of dust and rock, the beauty of destruction all around him, Frid experienced something new, like a hidden switch was flipped on inside his brain. His blood surged in a way he'd never felt before, adrenaline racing through his veins in a tidal wave. His vision blurred, everything before him turning into shades of blood red. Frid knew what this was. It was what his kind was infamously known for, what made the krogan feared above all else on the front lines. And now Frid was having it for the first time.

Blood Rage.

Frid remembered rushing at a herd of Cerberus attempting to flank Tack in the Atlas, his feet barely touching the ground. He fired his Claymore once and four infantrymen, all in a line, collapsed into a heap. His hands moved on their own, reloaded and firing, over and over. His eezo shield failed long ago, bullet dinged off his armor and ripped into his arms. He felt none of it. He became death incarnate, god of non-stop violence upon his foes.

Frid had never felt so alive.

By the time he came back to his senses, the battle was won, Frid standing among a pile of dead Cerberus, huffing and puffing as his massive frame finally calmed. A dismembered arm of an enemy was held in his crushing grip, every mag and grenade he had at the start long gone, used in a hail of wrath on Cerberus troops. He couldn't remember the majority of the assault, all he could recall was a red hazy light and echoes of gunfire mixed in with the screams of his enemies. But that didn't matter. He was still standing, the enemy was not. Hundreds of Cerberus soldiers were dead or dying, and those that remained were pulling out.

The roar of shuttle engines snapped Frid to attention. Just outside the building, Cerberus drop ships lifted off the ground, engines powering up. Frid threw the bloody arm at their ship with a yell, missing by a mile, but still felt appropriate to do. Then they were gone, off to space, and hopefully thinking twice about fucking with Tuchanka.

Fendi had successful regained control of the AA guns and locked out the systems while the rest of the squad demolished everything and everyone in sight. No one can access it without the right cyphers.

Good enough for Frid. A successful first mission. It was not going to be his last.

Cerberus was routed, guns were offline, so unless they wanted to take in the scenery, it was time to leave. There was no conversation as they hurried back to the shuttle. Frid was first there and popped the hatch, standing guard by the entrance until the others else got on board first. They were in the air and long gone moments later.

Back to the present, Frid glanced around the cabin, still feeling the thrill of battle humming in his blood. Everyone seemed to be in one piece. Fendi, while rattled, was piloting just fine. In fact, he seemed to be in overdrive, slender hands flitting about the controls in a blur. Post-fight adrenaline probably supercharged his already hyperactive mind. Either way, he was unscathed and handled himself quite well out there. He should be proud. Ranz was next to him, replacing his lost toothpick with a fresh one, dust-laden boots up on the dash again. The batarian had a pleased half-smile on his face as he fold his hands behind his head and slouched in his seat, exhaling away whatever little stress he had left. He too looked fully intact, if not a little more scuffed up than before.

Then his eyes settled on Tack, the human sitting on the bench where Frid had been when he first got on the shuttle, again stock still and silent. Only this time he was covered head to toe in splashes of blood and dirt that turned muddy wherever the two overlapped. Frid has a sense that Tack was smiling behind that helmet, which he should be. Anyone who can take apart a hoard of Cerberus troopers like that has to be feeling pretty great.

Which was how Frid felt. About a hundred times more great than he'd ever felt before. His first battle. And not only did he win, he crushed it! He was a bona fide krogan warrior now, kill count and everything. He cackled and threw his arms up in victory.

“WOO! Touchdown, baby! We are the motherfucking CHAMPIONS! Who's next?!"

Then a surge of dizziness washed over Frid, the adrenaline crash dropping on his head like an anvil. He wavered on his feet before fatigue took over, and the krogan fell backwards onto the shuttle floor with a tremendous whump!

Ranz glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious Frid sprawled out on the ground, snoring lightly and very truly zonked, then to Tack, who sighed heavily at the form of the fallen giant, having watched the whole scene unfold before him like a building implosion. Ranz and Tack exchanged a look, both silently agreeing to let Frid sleep it off.

Ranz shook his head before returning to gazing out the window as the brackish clouds passed by. “Krogan…"

===

“Snrk! …The fuck…?"

Frid awoke with a start, vision blurry as his memory came back. Right. Victory. Then… fainted. How embarrassing…

He grunted as he sat up slowly, back and hump somewhat sore from laying on the hard steel flooring. He was alone, the shuttle devoid of life and engines quiet. Through the windshield he saw sandy stone walls and heard conversation from outside. They must've landed at the secondary LZ, a back-up location safe enough to hole up in case the ship got damaged or their exit window was compromised. Frid was guessing it was the later.

Frid stood up, legs a little wobbly still. His back crackled as he righted himself, then stretched. Okay, so maybe he overdid it a teeny tiny bit. It was a nice nap at least.

He made his way over the the open hatch and peered outside. Yep, this was the definitely the place. An old krogan hospital, bombed out from the Krogan Rebellions ages ago, still standing after all this time. There was a huge hole punched into the ceiling which the shuttle had descending from, coming to rest in what was once the lobby. Good landing on Fendi's part.

Speaking of Fendi, Frid heard the salarian yakking away towards the aft of the shuttle, sounding rather chipper. There Frid saw Fendi recording himself with his omni-tool, Ranz nearby resting in a krogan-sized stone chair like it was a throne, again feet kicked up on an old crate, puffing away leisurely on the cigar he showed Frid earlier. Neither were masked as the place was free enough of radiation. It was one of the reasons the ruins were chosen in the first place.

But where was Tack? He looked left, looked right, no human anywhere. Frid sighed and hopped out of the hatch, catching himself on a fallen boulder before he could trip over his own feet. Now Fendi seemed to have gone from recording himself to recording Ranz, the batarian blase at being pestered. The hell was he doing anyways?

===

\-^RECORDING ACTIVATED^-//

Fendi pops up in front of the camera, smile big and excited.

“Hey guys! It's your boy, Fendi, coming to you live from the great Tuchanka. Well kinda of live, the dust storms are blocking me from sending anything out real time. And the radiation. But who cares about that? Yours Truly just just got done with his first mission and it was a resounding success! Eat that, Cerberus! Never knew what hit them. But I can't take all the credit, I had a great crew backing me up."

The view pans over to Ranz, feet up, four eyes closed, a minor crease of irritation forming in his brow.

“This guy right here is Ranz, and before you say it, yes he is a batarian, but he's cool. He's really good with his rifle and these pointy metal things—"

“They're called throwing knives, Fendi. We've been over this," Ranz utters around his stogy, exhaling a plume of smoke from the corner of his mouth.

“Right, right, 'throwing', 'knives'. He likes to stab people. Great stabber. Hey, Ranz, how about an interview for the fans?"

“Nope."

“C'mon not even a—"

“No."

The view returns to Fendi, looking slightly put off but half-shrugs anyways. “Oookay then. Well, that's Ranz everyone! Awesome guy really, just a little rough around the edges."

A sound draws Fendi's attention and he glances off camera. He grins impishly. “And look who's awake. Kinda of."

The view blurs as the camera turns around sharply before refocusing on the ship. Frid is shown pushing himself off the side of the shuttle with a hand, unsteadily righting himself as he got his land-legs back. He was scowling. Fendi zooms in.

“This big guy is Frid, the only krogan I've ever met who hasn't wanted to rip me in half because I'm a salarian. Oh! And he says he son of the ultra famous, uh, Thum? Thup?" The camera view dips a bit as Fendi as he calls to the krogan. “What's your dad's name again?"

From a distance: “Thul, tadpole!" The view returns to see Frid stomping his way over.

“Right, Thul! Bragus Thul. He told us he's sports star on Earth. I don't follow sports myself, except e-sports." As Frid gets closer and closer, he starts to appear more and more determined. “Hey, Frid, how about a little interview? The people want to know what it's like on the front lines in the war against the Rea—"

Frid reaches out and covers the lens with his giant, three-fingered mitt. “Hey!" Fendi yelps.

Frid's muffled yet baritone voice filters through. “Where's Tack?"

//-^RECORDING DEACTIVATED-^\

===

Fendi wiggled his way out of Frid's firm yet throttled grip around his omni-tool-clad wrist.

“Aww, man, Frid. You killed my feed," whined the salarian, fiddling with camera setting to reestablish connection.

Frid's sighed loudly, annoyed. “You do know Cerberus monitors social media right? You send that out, they can find where we're at."

Fendi paused, big amphibian eyes blinking in dumb realization. “Oh. Right. I, uh… Kind of forgot about that," he said meekly, glancing aside and rubbing the back of head.

Frid's eyes darted about, searching, then immediately turned his attention to Ranz, who now had one of his four eyes partially open, lazily taking in the sight of the alarmed krogan.

“Have a nice nap?" Ranz asked coyly, another plume of cigar smoke venting into the air

“Where'd Tack go?" Frid almost demanded, cutting to the chase.

The lid of the eye under Ranz's currently open eye raised, a look of intrigue crossing his features. “Since you're so concerned, he went to find someplace to wash off his armor. Blood is sticky."

Frid's head fell back with an exasperated groan. “In this place? Does he even know where to look? Can he read ancient krogan?"

Ranz shrugged, and Frid glanced at Fendi to see he was still tinkering with his omni-tool, tongue pinched at the corner of his mouth in concentration. Frid rubs his head crest and mutters to himself.

“Which way did he go…?" Frid asked, frustration evident in his tone.

Ranz points over Frid's shoulder and the krogan turned to see a hole in a collapsed wall, a hallway exposed behind it. Frid sighed. “There's no water that way," Frid grumbled, then immediately starts plodding in that direction.

Once Frid had cleared the pile of debris and disappeared down the hall, Fendi felt it was safe to speak again. “Sheesh, he's grumpy. You'd think after a nap like that he'd be more relaxed."

Ranz opened all four of his eyes at Fendi, half-lidded at the kid's naivety. He bit into his cigar, bemused.

“Did you go to college, Fendi?"

===

Tack's large footprints were easy to follow in the ages old dust and sand blanketing the corridors. Idly, Frid wondered if the legends saying that the size of a male human's feet correlated directly to the size of other specific organs of their bodies were true. If it was, Tack was one lucky bastard. But this wasn't the time or place to let his imagination run wild, as much as his libido wanted him to. First things first. Find Tack, then he could daydream all he wanted. And he would, too. Might even try to sneak off later so he could work some of those thoughts out of his system.

Frid came to a T-intersection, Tack's footprints leading to the left. A directory panel on the center wall was yellowed and faded, but Frid could still make out some of the words. He was a little rusty on his ancient lettering, but could make out the words “Staff" and “Quarters" with an arrow pointing in the same direction Tack went. Huh. Maybe Tack did know how to read krogan. Glancing back to the tracks, Frid noted how they didn't seem to have any hesitation in the gait. Tack knew directly where he was going. Interesting.

Frid continued along that left hallway. It didn't take long until he could hear the banging of metal on metal. The tracks led to where the sound was coming from. The krogan-sized door to a room was ripped off the hinges; the damage looked fresh. The name plate on the door read something like “locker room". Showers. Made sense. More insistent banging from inside prompted Frid to enter, cautiously. Somehow, he had the feeling that surprising someone like Tack might not be the best for his health.

The room was trashed, obviously looted a long time ago, lockers ransacked and rusting away. Only the holes punched into the ceiling from artillery strikes barely lent any light inside, but it was still fairly dark within. Leaned up against a dilapidated bench rested Tack's Striker rifle. Yeah, this was the place.

Frid heard the clatter of something small and heavy dropping to the tiled flooring. It came from around the corner to the entrance an attached closed-off area, covered by glass blocks miraculously still intact but clouded up from being scoured by sand and other debris.

Frid approached carefully, peeking inside. There was Tack, still coated with dried blood and caked with dirt, several rusty valves littering the floor around him. A loud crack and Tack had snapped another one off the faucet to a shower pipe. It clattered to the ground at his feet. Frid figured this was a safe-ish time to make his presence known.

“Need a hand?" Frid asked, leaning against the glass-lined entranceway with his arms folded and sporting a smug grin. Tack barely turned to greet him, he likely already heard Frid approach. Understandable, Frid acknowledged. Krogan aren't exactly known for being stealthy.

“No water," Tack said simply with a tinge of aggravation in his voice. Frid pushed himself off the glass blocks and walked over to meet him, eying the centuries-old piping above critically. They seemed intact. He reached up and flicked one, finding it to be heavy with no echo of being hollow.

“These old things still got some of the good stuff in them, probably clean too. They built these places to collect rain water to store in underground reservoirs. Back when Tuchanka actually had rain, that is." Frid sees Tack still has his sidearm on him, causing him to raise a brow in question. “Why didn't you just shoot it?"

Tack pauses, looks at the pipes again. “Ricochets. I don't want a bullet in my shoulder."

Frid had to agree that made sense. The pipes were old but wide and probably pretty thick, having to survive constant use by krogan hands day in and day out. Frid gestured he concurred with a side nod, then casually reach up and yanked a pipe down off its brackets. The corroded thing broke open easily. Clean, pure water flowed steadily out to patter against the tiles. Frid dusted off his hands.

“It's cold but it'll get the job done." Frid gave a tiny bow and his grin widened. “You're welcome."

After a brief moment of watching the water fall, Tack brought a gloved hand up the it wash over it, nasty junk rinsing off in dark clumps. Tack hummed positively, deciding this would work for him. Tack shook the moisture from his hand with a flick of his wrist, then turned to looked at Frid— genuinely looked at him, like one man to another, probably for the first time since they met. Frid's hearts thumped, hoping against all odds he didn't look as flustered as he felt.

“Thank you," Tack said, his tone slightly less monotone yet grateful. Then he extended his arm, palm up, directing Frid towards the exit to the shower room. “Now, if you don't mind…"

Frid glanced back at the way he entered then back to Tack, he chuckles demurely. “What, afraid of getting naked in front of a little ol' krogan like me?

Tack lowered his arm, unaffected by the joke. “I don't plan to remove my armor. Just the helmet. The sealing around the collar needs to be cleaned of congealed blood. I'll need to remove it to do so. I'm asking you to respect my privacy. Please."

The word “please" struck Frid deeper than he expected. For whatever reason, Tack didn't want to show his face, and was asking him nicely to not look. Frid got the sense Tack didn't usually ask for things, likely using the most direct and efficient route to take care of problem. So he felt kind of flattered Tack was being… well, nice to him. Maybe Frid was growing on him, and it took the krogan a lot of effort not to show how happy he was about that.

To covered it up, Frid decided to feign indifference, waving Tack off in a dismissive yet playful manner. “Bah, you humans and your modesty. Alright, just don't take too long. You know command should be getting in touch soon."

Tack nodded and turned away from Frid, the krogan taking that as his cue to get lost. He promptly left the showers and made his way out of the locker area, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the latches of Tack helmet pop free. Curiosity crashed over him like a tsunami. The mystery of uncovering what the man looked like under all that armor made his brain itch with child-like mischief. He had to see how Tack looked. This could be the only chance he'd ever get to see for himself.

Frid couldn't help himself. As quietly a krogan can, he sneaked back over to the showers, keeping low to avoid having his silhouette spotted through the fogged glass. Hopefully, the sound of the water hitting the tiles would mask his footsteps. Luckily for Frid, there was a small hole in one of the blocks, probably from a bullet. A tiny peephole to spy on the human. Internally, he berated himself for doing this. It was just… wrong. But he had to see. If he didn't, it'd haunt him for the rest of his life, and krogan live a long, long time.

Carefully, he peeked through the hole. Tack had his back to him, which was a bit of a relief. At least Frid wasn't going to see all of Tack's face, so it wasn't entirely creepy what he was doing, right? The human was rinsing his helmet carefully under the water stream, brushing the grime off with his still gloved hands. Frid couldn't quite see above Tack's shoulders from the angle he was at, so he carefully repositioned and took another look.

Much better. Frid scanned Tack over, taking in the basic details, from the neck up this time. Frid squinted. Pale human skin, no head hair, normal except… Frid's eye focus a little closer, and he almost gasped. Tack's head was covered in scars, dozens of them. Bladed weapon scars, slices and punctures, lines straight and precise, long and short, sometimes overlapping, varying in size from thin as a paper cut to as wide as a couple millimeters. It was almost like Tack was thrown into a vat with filled with shards of glass and steel nails.

No wonder he didn't want anyone to see him out of his armor. Someone really went to town on the human's skull, and with a wince, Frid gathered that if Tack's head was that badly scarred up, the damage likely extended to the rest of his body as well. Humans were constantly worried about their appearance, much like how the female-only blue-skinned asari were, and viewed scars as deformities and a source of shame. But not krogan. Scars from combat were as symbolic of having fought a battle which the bearer survived victorious. Other krogan, especially females, found them attractive. Frid was definitely one of those krogan.

But this wasn't right. Now that Frid knew why Tack asked for privacy, he felt ashamed for prying. He let his curiosity get the better of him. Again. He couldn't imagine how heavy the burden it must have been on Tack to carry such a secret, and it should have been the human's choice to reveal it to those he felt deserving. Instead this was how Frid learned it, by peeping like a juvenile idiot.

Frid averted his gaze and moved away from the wall, slowly creeping away to the hall in retreat. As soon as he felt he was out of earshot, the krogan began a quicker than usual jog back to the lobby, like a kid scampering away from his misdeeds with his tail between his legs.

Frid was fairly certain Tack didn't see or hear him. The human didn't act out of the ordinary in any way while Frid was checking him out, or come out to chase him down to hallway when he make his getaway, so there was a good chance he was in the clear. But still, he felt like such a dumbass for doing that. Trust is a fragile thing, especially between soldiers, and especially to humans. It was sacred. And when trust is broken, well… Frid didn't want to think about Tack could do to him. Just hours ago Frid saw the man rip Cerberus troopers open like potato chip bags. Frid shuddered.

But Tack wouldn't do that to him, right? Probably. Yeah, Tack wasn't like that. He was one of the good guys. Good guys don't frag their own squadmates. Right?

Shit. Sooner enough, Frid knew he was bound to find out when Tack came back to the lobby. He just hoped it wouldn't be the hard way.

===

Frid passed the time waiting for Tack to return by buffing his Claymore. It almost was back to its original shine, but some of the dings and gouges were just too deep to remove by hand. He considered taking it to a gunsmith next time he had some shore leave, but decided to leave the markings as is. They were like mementos of the fight it went through, of rigorous use and close calls. Maybe that's why Ranz let his armor stay so scratched up and patched. Each little mark was a story to tell. Scars were much the same. And if scars told tales, Tack's body must've been on par with a saga of books twenty issues deep.

Frid sighed gruffly. Why was Tack taking so long, anyways? How long had it been since he left the locker room?

Frid was thinking too much, making himself paranoid, so determined to focus on anything other than how much of a moron he was back at the locker room that minutes felt like hours. Ugh, this sucked. It all was made worse by Ranz, who Frid saw out of his peripheral vision watching him closely with at least two eyes since he came back. Frid guessed he didn't conceal how rattled the ordeal had made him well enough. At least Fendi didn't notice. He was on his back inside the shuttle with his legs dangling out, feet idly swaying as he played some kind of noisy video game on his onmi-tool. Truly the embodiment of salarian boredom.

Footsteps. Heavy but human, echoing from down the hallway behind Frid. The krogan had to restrain himself from looking back too sharply, resorting to a mere glance over his shoulder before he returned to scrubbing away at his Claymore. Can't look too concerned. The footsteps got louder until Frid was sure Tack had entered to room before he decided it was a good time to greet him.

Frid turned to do so and his breath almost hitched. Tack was clean. Super clean, like sparkling. Even in the suit, Tack was handsome as hell. Maybe it was the suit itself that added to his allure, all craggy and dark colored like the scaly plates of a fully grown krogan male. Frid shook off haze Tack dealt to him as the man descended the hill of debris leading up to the corridor and approached the group.

“You look better," Frid complimented as Tack went by.

Tack nodded back, the gesture casual and seemingly devoid of malice. A good sign, tension easing from Frid body. Looks like he dodged a bullet there. Perhaps literally. Still felt like an asshole for spying though. He vowed to be a less foolhardy from that moment forward, something he hoped wasn't easier said than done.

Tack walked to the shuttle where Fendi lay, stopping there to stare down at the supine salarian still wrapped up in his game.

“Fendi," Tack said, voice a sliver higher in intensity than usual.

The salarian jolted and sat up. “WHA— YES?!" Then he sharply cleared his throat and somewhat composed himself. “Y-yes?"

“Has HQ responded to our comms yet?" Tack asked, softer.

“Huh? Oh yeah, they sent a reply about an hour ago."

Everyone in the room stopped whatever they were doing to gaze at the salarian in surprise.

“An hour?" Frid deadpanned.

Ranz put his feet back down from the crate he used as a footstool. “You could've told us sooner, Fendi," he chastised.

“I didn't really think it mattered," Fendi said in his defense. “ETDs are guesses at best anyways, so I figured once I got second confirmation I'd tell you guys."

“When," Tack asked firmly, leaning forward ever so slightly at glare at the salarian. “Is the the estimated time of departure?"

With a tiny nervous laugh, Fendi smiled in a way he hoped looked disarming and tugged at his collar. “Eh heh… Two to three hours from now? Depending on the weather? With luck?"

Tack continued to stare at Fendi for a few moments longer, probably to make the youth squirm a little under his ire, which Frid approved of. Tack was delivering well-deserved yet mild punishment on behalf of all of them. A moment passed, then Tack backed off and stepped away from the shuttle. Fendi looked like he was about to pass out. Maybe he'd think twice about being stingy with info that effected the rest of squad from now on.

Tack wordlessly headed towards the lobby entrance leading outside, the storm from before having calmed.

Fendi peeked out from the shuttle hatch. “Uh, where's he going?" he asked Ranz.

Tack heard him and replied promptly, drawing his Striker had holding it at idle. “Perimeter check. We've been here too long already. And I don't like surprises."

Frid scoffed and uttered quietly. “No shit. Hey, wait up!"

Frid hopped up from his pillar-bench and trotted to catch up to Tack, who slowed to let him close the distance but didn't fully halt, watching over his shoulder until the krogan was by by his side and matching his stride.

“Want some back up? Best not to go alone around here, you'll never know what you'll run into," Frid eagerly asked.

Tack head-tilted in thought, coyly to tease Frid. “Sure," he said after what felt like ages to Frid.

“Great," said Frid, barely able to contain how ecstatic he truly was. “I'll be your tour guide."

Tack hummed that he accepted the offer, and Frid's grin became more toothy.

“Let's go then," said the krogan, and the two stepped through the lobby entrance into the hot Tuchanka sun, disappearing from sight.

Back at the shuttle, Fendi was waiting until the coast was clear before hopping out of the shuttle. His grin was near dastardly as he plugged away at his omni-tool. Ranz was quick to notice.

“What're you doin'?" Ranz asked as if speaking to a misbehaving child.

“If I can't get an interview for my vlog, the least I can do is get some b-roll footage. Recording those two patrolling would look excellent on camer—AGHK!"

Ranz yanked Fendi back by the collar of his armor and forced him to sit on a stone block, the stunned salarian having no time to react. “Uh-uh, no you don't. You're grounded for keeping that comm stuff secret from us."

Fendi was flabbergasted. “Grounded?! The hell, I'm a full grown man, Ranz! And I didn't keep anything secret, I just didn't tell you guys, not like it was anything important."

Ranz sat back down at his stone chair. “The point of being a unit is being on the same page. Even if the facts aren't important, we should have been informed of them regardless. Try to remember that for the future."

Fendi sighed in defeat and looked sheepish, humbled by the brow beating. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. I won't do that again, promise."

“Good," Ranz said, kicking his feet back up and returning to chilling. “Now stay put and watch the comms until they get back. The sooner we get out of here the better."

Fendi nodded but still pouted, lamenting how boring his vlog was turning out to be. So he turned to Ranz and gazed at him with deliberate and totally innocent puppy-dog eyes. “Can I at least get an interview from you? It'd mean a lot to me."

Ranz took one look at the salarian and slouched with a heavy groan. “Fine," he relented. “Just keep it professional, alright?"

Fendi immediately perked up, smiling wide and excited. “Sure! Professional is my middle name," he said as he quickly summoned up his camera to record. “So tell me how many enemies have you killed so far."

Ranz sighed. “This was a mistake."

===

Outside, it was much calmer Frid expected, certainly better than when they first landed back at the artillery outpost. Swirls of massive dust storms obscured the view of the craggy mountains and canyons in the distance, swathed in orange-brown clouds as if swiped over by a giant paint brush. High above, the sun occasionally darkened as radioactive clouds crawled by, mercifully blocking the intense heat for a short while. Thunder was near, fairly loud, and the wind roared high above like the howling of a great god.

Fendi wasn't kidding about the storms. They weren't flying anywhere until these things died down.

A gust kicked sand into the air, swarming around the legs of two men as they trekked along. Frid hated sand, even more so when it was airborne and trying to blind him. And when it wasn't pissing him off that way, the stuff had a bad habit to getting into places where sand was not welcome. Frid grunted and swiped some of the bothersome crap off his pauldron.

Tack hadn't said a word since heading out, but Frid was getting used to the human's quiet demeanor. He even found it endearing, to a point. It made him want to get to know the spellbinding man all the more.

“What's that building over there?" Tack asked out of the blue, gesturing with his rifle at something further ahead.

Frid followed Tack's line of sight to a small tower a few klicks away. “That? No idea."

Tack shook his head in amusement. “You're not a very good tour guide."

“You got me. I just didn't want to be stuck with those two. Ranz isn't much for talking and Fendi is… well, Fendi."

“Understandable."

A moment of quiet followed, the two taking in the meager sights, most consisting of sand, rocks, and more sand with the occasional boulder mixed in. The hospital ruins were much larger than Frid first thought, even after several minutes of patrol he still couldn't see where the building ended so they could make a turn for the southern perimeter.

The silence grated on Frid, so he cleared his throat in a lame attempt to get Tack's attention. “Kinda sucks how you just got cleaned up then have to deal with all this sand shit. It's gotta be better than all that blood and mud from before though. Where'd you learn to fight like that, anyways?"

Tack didn't answer right away, likely debating on the reply. “Practice. And N7 training at Rio. Good program."

Frid chuckled. “You graduated at the top of your class, I bet."

“I was the class," Tack said. It almost sounded like a brag.

Frid hummed and nodded. “The way you tear the enemy to shreds, I'm not surprised."

Another moment, then Tack glanced down at Frid's shotgun. “That Claymore is special to you, isn't it Frid."

The krogan displayed a proud toothy grin again, hefting up the weapon. “Yeah, my father gave it to me a long time ago. Couldn't ask for a better weapon. Today was the first time its seen combat."

“You handle it well," Tack complimented. “Has anyone ever told you the origin of the name?"

“Claymore? No." Frid was genuinely curious.

“It's a sword from ancient Earth times. Great sword to be precise. Scottish. Big, heavy and deadly. Like you."

“Oh?" Frid couldn't resist letting out a modest chortle. “You really know how to flatter a guy."

“I lied earlier," Tack said suddenly, catching Frid off guard by it's abruptness. “About your father. I know who he is. I watched that championship game, too."

Frid eyes flashed with triumph and he barked a laugh. “Hah! Called it! Knew you were a football fan."

Tack shrugged noncommittally. “In a way. Your father would be proud of how you handled yourself today."

“I hope so." If Tack was trying to make Frid blush, he was doing a damn good job. The big krogan felt silly becoming so bashful.

“Siblings?"

“Two. Both females, actually. Super rare. You?"

“None. Two krogan sisters, though. That's something."

“Yeah… Pops had to keep them away from Tuchanka and the clans. He was always worried something might happen to 'em."

“His worry is not misplaced. With what happened to your people."

Frid stopped walking and Tack followed suit, the later turning to face the other. Frid knew Tack was alluding to the genophage, that fucking sterilizing genetic bio-weapon that just about wiped the krogan species off the map. Tack was being kindly mindful to not say the word out loud, being such a touchy subject to krogan as a whole. He wasn't angry at Tack for bringing it up, but still, Frid's eyes averted and his lip curled in a sneer.

Tack's voice jarred Frid out of the spiral of depressing anger he was sinking into. “For what it's worth, I don't agree with it. No species deserves such treatment."

Frid shook his head, looking up into the irradiated skies. “Maybe we did. We did this to our own planet, long before the turians or the salarians even knew we existed. All we're really good at is fighting. Don't get me wrong, I love a good battle. Even humans are like that. But humans never got the point of nuking themselves because they needed an enemy and decided their own kind was good enough."

“We came close. Several times," Tack told him, the tone and pace hinting sympathy. “And you're selling your species short. There's more to krogan than brutality." Frid met eyes with Tack when he said that, or as best he could with the human's helmet still on. Tack continued. “Tell me something. Was the first gift your father gave you a kid's football?"

Frid's jaw fell ajar in surprise. “Yeah, it was. First thing in the crib after me. How'd you know?"

“That tells me all I need to know about your species, Frid. No one wants to raise their child to become a war machine."

Frid stood there in silence. Tack was… really an interesting man, genuine. Frid bordered on choking up. Luckily before he could show it, a rumble of thunder above drew their attention, heavy clouds gathering and blanketing the sun. The wind spiked, oddly cool in the Tuchanka heat. The storm was kicking up, and rain was not something to be caught in on this planet, unless melted armor was your thing.

Frid glanced to the side, noting a side entrance to a undamaged wing of the ruins. He motioned at it with his Claymore. “We should get inside, ride out the storm. You don't really want to keep patrolling, do you?"

Tack shrugs back. “Not particularly."

Frid flashes a grin. “Good, because I got a little something to pass the time," he said as he tugged the front of his collar forward and reached inside the front of his armor, pulling out a tiny flask. Tiny by krogan standards at least. “Ever had ryncol before?"

When Tack shook his head, Frid shook the flask at him to slosh the alcohol inside around. “Good. We still need to have that celebratory drink. You game?"

Tack tilted his head in thought but came to a conclusion rather quickly. “Sure. Why not."

“Great!" Frid smiled. “Let's get in before things get nasty out here."

“Agreed. Lead the way."

Without further ado, the duo hustled inside the ruins, just as the rain began to fall, droplets hissing into the hot Tuchanka sand.

===

Frid and Tack didn't have to venture far into ruins to find a place to rest. It looked like some sort of rec-room-slash-cafeteria type area, old stone tables and chairs lining the walls, shattered dishes and warped cutlery strewn about. There even seemed to be a few stone beds situated around the remains of what was once a large fountain in the center of the room. The hard beds didn't exactly look comfortable, but they were made for krogan, who could sleep just about anywhere, even if it was just a stone slab. Otherwise, the area seemed remarkably clean. Well cleaner than most of the other places within the ruins they'd seen thus far. Scavengers likely made this their home for a time, explaining some of the debris laying about. Old crates and discarded food tins, but not as old as the ruins themselves. Still, it looked like it'd been some time since anyone set foot in there. Should be safe for now.

Light wasn't a problem either. Several large, thickly glassed skylights were still intact and embedded into the ceiling, filling the space with a soft orange glow that wavered in brightness as darkened clouds passed by. It was calm and quiet, the perfect place to take a break.

They settled for one the few tables remaining that wasn't crumbling to pieces, Frid taking a bench seat across from Tack. He doesn't waste time unscrewing the flask, the elongated cap of which served as a field shot glass, and began to pour. Even from where he sat, Frid's nostrils tickled pleasantly from the vapors the powerful alcohol emitted as it splashed into the cap.

Tack watched the clear fluid fill it to the brim, but Frid scooped it up before he could even consider taking it. Frid would've felt greedy doing so, but it was his flask after all, so it was only proper to let him have the first shot.

The krogan slammed it down and felt liquid fire cascade down his gullet to warm the pit of his belly. With a smack of his lips and stretch of the jaws, he pounded the top of the table with a fist as he rode out the burn. Damn it was good. High proof, even for ryncol. He cleared his throat of heat and placed the cap down to poured one for Tack.

“Top shelf stuff," Frid told him, voice raspy from the booze. He filled the cap only halfway. Tack was tough, but humans simply can not handle ryncol like a krogan can. He offered it Tack, who graciously took it with both hands. “You know, you'll have to take your helmet off to drink that. Unless you got some kind of straw in there like a quarian."

Tack paused, then set the cap down gently on the stone tabletop. He raised his hands to either side of his helmet and pressed two fingers to a spot when the jaw met the skull on a human head. He held them there for five seconds until a soft beep was heard, then the lower face plate covering the mouth unsealed. Tack placed a spread palm over the mask-like device to hold it steady and gripped it tightly at the the sides with his thumb and fingers. A firm tug and it popped free.

Frid wasn't sure what he expected to see, his mind would've been running wild with ideas if Tack hadn't removed it so quickly, but the mouth area revealed looked pretty normal for a human. His skin was pale but looked soft, similar in color to what he so idiotically saw earlier at the showers. His lips had a fair thickness, there was no facial hair, and only a sliver of his nose could be seen under the visor guard protecting the bridge and cheekbones.

And there scars there as well, which Frid expected. Only a few though, the largest one being a furrow cut into the skin starting from under the left corner of his chin and curving in an S-shape over the mouth to disappear behind the seal of his remaining helmet.

Frid spoke without thinking. “Neat," he said pointing at Tack's exposed face.

The corner of Tack lips curled in the tiniest of smiles as he set the mask aside. “The mask or the scars?"

Tack's voice sounded even deeper and edged than with mask on. Frid nearly shivered as it graced his ears. He shrugged honestly. “Both? Anyways," he tapped a finger next to the semi ryncol-filled cap before Tack. “Drink up. I'd offer a toast but there's just one glass."

This time Tack did smile, nothing grand or anything, just a simple pleased if not bemused smile. He pointed at the flask in Frid's hand. “I think we still can."

Frid glanced at the flask, then back to Tack with confusion. “You?" he asked, to which Tack nodded. “I'm sure that's a good idea, ryncol hits humans diff—"

Tack cut Frid off by leaning forward and taking the flask right from the krogan's mitt, then using his other hand, placed the cap beside Frid's now vacant hand. Frid picked it up with two fingers, gazing down at it in befuddlement. Tack tapped the neck of the flask against the rim of the cap between Frid's fingers.

“Cheers," Tack said, and without another word, placed the flask to his lips and tilted his head back, taking a solid swallow of ryncol. Frid stared at Tack in utter disbelief. He watched slack-jawed as Tack took another swig, then a third, then a fourth! Frid was certain Tack was going to spontaneously combust any second. Even krogans with a ryncol addiction couldn't down the stuff that pure that fast. And yet, Frid watched as Tack took a fifth and final gulp, then separated from the flask with a small sigh of relief, no coughs, no throat-clearing, not even a twitch of discomfort. Smooth as ice. Then the human casually wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and placed the now half-empty flask in the center of the table. Frid gawked at the flask, and then at Tack as if he were looking at a newly discovered alien species, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Oooh man… that's… Wow," Frid mumbled, lost at what else to say. His mind might have been blown, but other parts of his body wanted to see an encore. His dick got hard so fast, Frid didn't just feel it thump against the inside of his codpiece, he swore he could hear it. Frid had the shift a bit to compensate. Good god, what this human was doing to him…

Tack, for his part, added a tinge of smugness to his smile, bordering on a smirk, then easily reclaimed his mask and snapped it back into place on his helmet. Seeing Frid still trying to process what he just witnessed, he pointed at the cap still dangling between the krogan's fingers. “You should finish that," he told him.

Frid shook himself back to reality. “Uh? Oh! Yeah, I was… distracted."

Tack waited until Frid was tilting back his half of the toast before speaking again. “Distracted like when you took a look at me in the showers?"

Frid spit his ryncol out in a spray of mist, then began hacking out the suddenly inhaled alcohol from his lungs as he nearly fell off the bench. Tack calmly watched on as the krogan flailed around a bit more, Frid's eyes watering as he coughed into the closed fist of one hand while the other was held up one finger raised in a “wait a second" gesture. Tack chuckled softly at the scene, interlacing his fingers upon the table like a teacher observing a student explain why he was late to class. This went exactly as he planned.

“You—" Frid wheezed, clearing his through roughly. “You saw that huh…?"

Tack nodded deliberately slow.

Frid thumped his chest with a fist, forcing the coughs to die down. “I… I shouldn't have done that. You told me not to and I still did it—" One big final cough and the fits were finally over. Frid took a deep breath before gradually facing Tack with his head ducked down in shame. “I went behind your back… I'm sorry. I've felt like shit about it ever since…"

“Don't be. I knew you were going to take a look," Tack said simply as a fact.

Frid froze, face blank. “You did?"

Tack nodded and leaned forward, elbows on the tabletop and hands clasped. “I'm not blind, Frid. Did you really think I wouldn't notice how you've been watching me?"

“Um… Maybe?" Frid eyes shifted nervously, settling on the flask in the middle of the table. Tack tilted his head, amused.

“Frid," Tack asked calmly. “Did you really tag along with me just to back me up and have a drink?"

Frid's hearts thudded, and with a quick move, he snatched the flask up and downed a large swig from it, barely even feeling the burn this time. “No," he said just as fast. He dared to glance at the human, now seeing his head tilted the other way in an inquisitive manner, imploring Frid to elaborate. It was a simple gesture that made Frid's ears ring with its intensity.

Frid swallowed the lump in his throat down hard, then the words spilled out like water from a broken dam. “When I saw you fight… You brushed aside the enemy like dried leaves before crushing them under your boot. I had never witnessed such power and skill on the battlefield. Not in vids, movies, shit, not even in my dreams. You were like a god of war at work."

Frid rubbed the back of his head. “And you sparked my blood rage. Did you see that?"

“It was hard to miss. I was impressed," Tack complimented.

Frid covered his face with his hands and groaned miserably. He didn't deserve such praise. If Tack saw him blush, he would straight up die on the spot. So Frid kept right on talking. “You know, you're like a battlemaster to my kind. It's the greatest honor a krogan can have. I wanted to join you in the fight, side by side. Equals in carnage. That's what set me off."

Frid sat up straight suddenly, hands flat on the table looking directly at Tack now, eyes wild. “It's crazy, I know. It was just one mission and we'd known each other, what, an hour at most? But what a rush! It was everything I'd ever wanted!"

Frid sighed heavily, letting the facade drop. “Fuck it, I admit it. I'd never been so turned on in my entire life. Fuck, it's all I can think about anymore."

“I know," Tack replied matter-of-factly. “You've been interested in me since we first met in the shuttle."

Frid was stunned. “I… how did you—?"

“We both know why we're here, don't we, Frid," Tack asked, his voice firm as steel. Before Frid could get another word out, Tack stood up and circled around the table to Frid's side. The krogan stayed where he was numbly, turning his body to face Tack as he came to stop before him, legs astride either side of the bench. Frid gawped as Tack placed a hand under his chin to tilt Frid's head up to meet his faceless downward gaze, too much in awe at the visage of the giant man looming over him to do much else.

“Because you want me to fuck you," Tack proclaimed, words rumbling forth from behind the mask deep and guttural, unlike anything Frid had heard before. “And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

The flask slipped between Frid's fingers and clattered to the ground. Oh my god, he thought, euphoria washing over his alcohol fuzzed mind. This is really happening…

An gloved thumb traced over the krogan's lips, testing their pliancy as the tip barely wedged between them, urging the jaws apart. Without thinking, Frid let his mouth fall open, and Tack seized the opportunity to explore further. An icy-hot tingle traveled down Frid's spine when Tack slid his thumb fully inside and swept along the broad tongue within, a puff of humid breath washing over the obsidian gauntlet. He sealed his lips around the probing digit in, taking it in, tasting of earth and metal. The muffled moan he let out wasn't becoming of a big, tough krogan, but he couldn't give less of a shit. Dignity be damned, he wanted this.

Tack seemed to approve, pressing his thumb into the cloying vacuum of the krogan's maw, easing it back and forth, Frid giving him a sample of what was to come. The man hummed, pleased, then slid his thumb free of Frid's warm, wet grasp, the krogan reluctantly letting him go, the simple act enough to leave him breathless.

Again claiming the krogan's chin between newly dampened thumb and forefinger, Tack tilted Frid heads upwards before he leaned down to look directly into the eyes of his squadmate, and though hidden by the visor of his helmet, Frid swore he could feel how intense the gaze truly was.

“That's what you want, isn't it, Frid," he told him, and Frid almost melted on the spot.

“More than anything," Frid rasped out, voice husky with desperation.

“Good," Tack replied, letting Frid's chin drop before righting himself and taking a step back. This is when Frid realized he was head-height with Tack's crotch, and watched silently as Tack reached down and pressed a switch above the elliptical-shaped plate. There was a click followed by a hiss as pressure released, then Tack unceremoniously popped the codpiece off and tossed it on the table. Frid's eyes lit up in awe.

“Holy shit…" Frid whispered. Being from Earth, Frid had the pleasure of sampling quite a few human cocks, all of differing shapes, sizes and colors, modified and unmodified. But Tack was in a category all his own. At least nine inches soft, thick and meaty— not as thick as a krogan, mind you, but certainly longer— and the shaft was finely veined, the head perfectly fashioned in that uniquely human shape, glistening proudly.

Actually, looking closer, Frid noticed the entirety of the area seemed shiny with something. Then he remembered that some of these battlesuits didn't work without skin-to-sensor contact. Something about that on-board systems monitoring the wearer's bio-electrical signatures and boosting power to the parts of the body that needed it. For that to happen, they either needed a special undersuit lined with wire connectors, or the insides of the armor had to be coated in a electrode-conductive gel or oil for currents to travel from suit to muscle and vise versa. It seemed the latter was the case here. Good thing too, since the coating was likely good for reducing friction too, and considering all of what Tack kept contained down there, he probably needed all the anti-chaffing he could get.

So yeah, Tack was practically naked under all that armor. Oh mama, this kept getting better and better.

Oh, and his balls! Fuck yeah, flawlessly-smooth, easily egg-sized, hanging low and shined just like the rest of him. Chef's kiss. Sadly, only two, but with what Tack already had on display, it felt right.

Strangely, no hair there, or anywhere for that matter. Like his head, Tack didn't appear shaved either, more like laser-removed. Made sense if he needed the suit to scan his vitals. The less in the way of the sensors the better.

Frid was relieved there weren't any scars around the area, though the ends of some peeked from under the waist armor. Not that it would've bothered Frid personally, but no man deserves to go through that. Well some do, but not Tack. That monstrosity between the human's legs was a thing of beauty that deserved respect, and lots and lots of worship, which Frid planned to provide in spades.

In summary: Tack was the biggest human Frid had ever seen, in more ways than one. His cock was exquisite, god-like, fitting to a warrior such as him. Mentally, Frid chided himself. The fact that even for a moment he doubted Tack could be packing anything less than what he saw now was blasphemous. How foolish he was.

“I've never seen such a big one on a human," Frid murmured. He wasn't sure when, but suddenly his hand was already around Tack's length, all three fingers curling around its girth. They barely wrapped around it, feeling the thrum of Tack's pulse radiating from the flesh, virile and raw. Meanwhile, his other hand cupped the balls in his palm, thumb caressing their slick curves like one would a delicate artifact. Even under his gauntlet-covered fingers, they felt hot to the touch, boiling for release. Already, Frid felt the flesh firming up.

How long had it been since this human he last got off, he wondered. Most humans were weary of putting any part of themselves near a krogan, no less their most vital ones. Tack didn't hesitate at all. Had he fucked around with krogan men before? A pang of jealously struck Frid like an arrow at the thought. On the spot, Frid vowed that whoever the lucky motherfucker was that got to Tack first, the human wasn't going to even remember his name by the time this krogan was finished. He was going to give him a ride he'd never forget.

Frid's hand slid easily down hardening cock from base to head in downward, twisting strokes as the other mitt fondled the balls in sync, rolling the orbs roll over his fingertips, feeling them tauten and flex in their silky home. For his effort, Frid was rewarded with a bead of pre forming at the tip. Tack let out a grunt and placed a hand on Frid's head crest, fingers curling into the fringe.

Spurred on, the krogan let his eyes close and gave a long, wet drag of his broad tongue along the topside of the shaft upwards to the base before quickly dripping down to swiping clean the hanging droplet of pre with a greedy lap. Nostalgia warmed his senses. Tack had a flavor like other humans he'd tried before, the salt of skin still there despite the oil, which itself had no favor, but smelled slightly like vanilla. Nice touch. The pre though, that was something new. Definitely trademark human male, but stronger, tangier, and most notably the most potent he had the pleasure to savor. God damn, Tack never seemed to disappoint.

With greater need, Frid bathed the length of the cock again with his tongue faster. Then he ducked his head lower. He homed in on the junction where the shaft met ballsac, digging in and kissing the loose skin, semi-hard human dick draped over the bridge of his nose. Frid enveloped the balls in the moist haven of his mouth, tongue dancing over the smooth orbs once his lips sealed around them, bathed so slick with saliva, they practically glided over his tongue like polished stones. God, he tasted so good here.

Frid greedily laved the loose skin, mouthing around the human's scrotum while vigorously tugging it into his damp maw, hot plumes of breath wafting over the newly spit-soaked region. Tack made a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh, his other hand joining in to grab hold on Frid's crest to tug him forward into his crotch. Frid nuzzled in, happy to oblige, slightly tilting his head and swallowing heavily down around the balls while his tongue snaked out to lap underside.

Frid felt Tack's shaft bounce and throb against his nose, lifting as it hardened and rapidly rose to full mast. A quick glance up and Frid eyes dilated at the sight the great pillar of flesh pulsing proudly above, ramped over his head crest between both of Tack's wrists. Frid was astounded. Somehow, it did get longer, and thicker! So much so that it blocked the vision of one eye that tried to view the man above. A massive dick at least a foot long now, Tack was certainly a grow-er not a show-er. If there was a dick lotto, Frid just hit the powerball.

A spark ignited in Frid's belly. He needed more. He let the balls slip free of his mouth, swinging free in the cool air, Tack left huffing loudly behind the breather.

With laser focus, Frid leaned back and reaching up to tilt the tip human maleness down to aim towards him. It bumped his nose on the way, surprising him with a string of pre webbing across his upper lip. The scent of Tack flooding forth was rich and fresh, it overwhelmed Frid. He couldn't wait a second longer.

With one smooth motion, he opened wide, placed the tip of his tongue under the cock head, letting it bob against the wide tip for a moment or two, then dove in, taking the entire length in one wet gulp. It filled his mouth nicely, easily on par with how a krogan's fit inside, but Tack was longer. Much longer. And even though krogan don't have a gag reflex, the way it easily bumped the back of his throat and smoothly plunged down his gullet made him stagger. Frid imagined how the front of his neck must've looked, bulging with the cock. Frid moaned like he never had before, deep rumbling voice vibrating around the meat in his throat as he swallowing around the flesh like a fish gulping prey.

Frid could stay this way forever, nursing human cock for a lifetime, yet he didn't have much time to savor the moment. Tack's hands latched on both sides of Frid's head and gripping tight, keeping the krogan's skull still, then he pulled his hips back and slid his cock almost entirely free of Frid's mouth. Frid's could only emit a drunken “Guh!" a millisecond before Tack rammed himself back in and down the krogan's throat. Then he pulled out and slammed back in again, spit-slick balls smacking into Frid's chin. Then again, and again, and again. It was wild and fast, catching the krogan off guard. Frid's hands flailed before finding purchase on the back of Tack's knees, hanging on for dear life as Tack began to savagely fuck his mouth with abandon. Tack nearly pushed the large krogan off his seat with the impact of his hips, forcing Frid to plant his feet firmly on either side of his bench to anchor himself.

Frid eyes couldn't get any wider. Never before had a human, not even a krogan, taken charge like this. Pressure pounded in his ears, head rushing, his mouth nothing more than a sleeve for the human's rod to plunder. Frid was totally at Tack's mercy, and it drove Frid wild. This is what he craved, and Tack was delivering ten-fold.

His eyes, once wide in surprise, became droopy again, the reptilian-pupiled emerald orbs rolling back into his skull as the world was reduced to the meaty flesh dashing back and forth over his tongue and down his gullet. Frid's arms became weak and his grip slipped, hands limply dropping into his lap, his head only held up by Tack's hands clamped onto it.

Spittle streamed from the corners of his mouth to run under his chin and dripping onto his chest armor, pattering about with each meeting his busy mouth had with the human's steamy groin. Normally, this might have bothered Frid, had he not been so lost in the moment. Like his claymore, Frid's custom armor got just as much doting attention, cleaned religiously and buffed to a near mirror finish so his enemy could see their own terrified expressions reflected back at them in tiger-striped steel as their impending demise charged at them. This was different. If it was anyone else's cock he was choking on other than Tack's, he'd put things on hold for a minute to suit down then get back to business. But Frid didn't want to miss a second pleasuring this man, spit-stained armor a sacrifice he readily made.

Another deep moan. Frid attempted to slurp loudly around Tack's cock. Humans seemed to like that. Wet sounds from a submissive mouth always did the trick. Frid desired to feel this man cum down his throat and fill his belly, already imagining how piping hot it would be and the tart of its flavor. But Tack was going too hard and fast, the human made music out of Frid's maw all on his own, now a tune that Frid was getting drunk on.

Frid smiled dopily around Tack's shaft. Somehow, even with how Tack manhandled him, he managed to cast a foggy glance up at his squadmate, eyes asking for more, rumbling out his need deep in his chest. He took a particularly hearty swallow to get the message across before following up with a wanton curl of the tongue and a sliver of a grin at the corners of his jaws.

Tack got the hint, and doubled down, yanking Frid down onto his cock while rocking his hips forward into the warm, inviting maw.

Mmf-glp-fk-ghg!

The sounds Frid made each time that magnificent cock sunk into his gullet echoed loudly in the old room.

Frid moaned around the thing like a desperate little pup, and thanked every god he could think of that his kind could hold its breath so well. Also that his forehead was so well protected by his crest. The plate clashed against the armor covering Tack's pelvic region with an audible thump with each forward thrust into the krogan's face. Frid felt like he was headbutting Tack's crotch, and given his species propensity to ram their skulls into others like a national pastime, he couldn't help but find that kinda funny. Seriously hot, too.

Then suddenly, Tack reared his hips back and freed himself of Frid's mouth. The krogan let out a gurgling gasp as it went, much needed air rushing in to cool his throat.

“Good," Tack said, taking a step back. With lighting quick speed, the man grabbed Frid by the front of his collar and yanked the still dazed krogan to his feet. He let go with a firm shake, Frid still finding his bearings.

“Get your armor off," Tack ordered “I want to see what I'm working with."

Now those words snapped Frid to attention. “Fuck yeah," he replied immediately, smile giddy and toothy.

Frid wiped his mouth and gave himself some room. For his part, Frid wanted to at least try to strip down slowly and give this human a little show. But he didn't want to appear too eager, even though the temptation to not just chuck his shit off and jump on that amazing cock was incredible. Shit, the way Tack was riling him up made him feel like a virginal, hormonal teenager again. Which, to be honest, wasn't hard to do. Humans always got his motor running.

“I'm surprised we made it this far without you cumming. Most krogan would've gone off a few times by now," Frid idly said, popping the seals on the sides of his armor and wresting the front piece off. He set it aside as quickly yet as delicately as he could, smirking at Tack slyly as he bared his chest proudly.

Frid was definitely one to brag. Good genes gave him broad pecs and eight-pack abdomen, a constant grind of training made them rock-hard and sharply defined. Since he was still rather young by krogan standards, his natural plating hadn't completely developed over his frontal torso yet, a soft hue of green-yellow, leathery skin drawn taut over the muscles. A pebbling of light green scales spread along his thick collarbones that darkened in color and density the closer they got to his fully-formed shoulders. From where the collarbones met, the same scales also descended between his pecs to cluster over the sternum where they grouped together in a mesh of downward chevron-shaped mini-plates. Very manly. Then there were the tiny constellations along the pubic bones that sloped down the trench between the muscle there. Those were pretty neato.

The best of all though was the triangle of scales that had sprouted below his belly, micro-fine at the upper tip that got bigger and broader as they went downward, not that much different than the one on his collarbones, but these were softer and consistently dark green. The largest, and notably the silkiest, were a set of them that crowning the pubic area right above his still concealed cock. Some of his former human lays compared it to a “happy trail" akin to their own hair made in the same region of their own bodies. Frid had to agree; he thought the term was a nice touch.

“I'm not a krogan," Tack replied bluntly. Undeterred, Frid chuckled and continued on with removing armor. Reaching behind himself with both hands to the base of his hump, Frid unlatched the back armor and shucked it off. It dropped to the floor with much less grace than the front part did. Typical smirk still present, Frid folded his arms, making sure to flex his chest at the man while also bulging his powerful biceps. Another youthful perk that those were unplated and bare as well. Great for showing off.

“You ain't like most humans either," Frid countered respectfully.

“You're right," Tack ended, not even bothering to hide how cryptic nature of the reply.

“Oh I like you," Frid said full-heartedly, then gave the man a haughty laugh, striking a pose to showed off how his rigid muscles undulated as his body swayed. “Do you like what you see?"

“Yes," Tack replied, voice noticeably huskier than before. The human's still hard cock bobbed in anticipation. “Show me the rest."

Frid beamed. _Hah! Still got that magic touch. _

Seemed like Frid got himself worked up by giving that little display as much as Tack enjoyed watching it. Frid's own dick was already hard from giving Tack that hummer before, but under Tack's praise, now the beast was about ready to break out of dick jail and rocket his codpiece off like a stray bullet. It was almost painful, but the good kind pain, like anticipation mixed with longing. Fuck it, he had to get out of this armor right now, who cares if he looked desperate or not. He was desperate! Get off! Off, off, off!

Pieces of armor clattered loudly to the floor as fast Frid could shed them until the krogan was down to his boots and compression shorts, which were having a hell of a time straining to contain the impressive bulge currently stretching the elastic fabric to max. Frid smirked at his quarry, licked his lips wet, and hooked his thumbs under the waistband from the sides. He tugged them down little by little until they snagged on the lump of krogan cock, halting any further descent.

“Ever seen a krogan in the buff before?" Frid teased, jostling his hidden goods at the man.

“I took xeno-biology class in high-school," Tack replied gruffly. “Now take those off. You don't want to ruin them."

A shiver ran up Frid's spine, and without a further thought, tugged the shorts down completely.

There, jutting proudly from his hips, was Frid's pride and joy. A solid seven-inch monument to krogan reproductive prowess, so thick that Frid himself couldn't wrap his hand around it entirely. A magnificent specimen of krogan cock, if he did say so himself.

Physically, krogan weren't too different from humans in the male genitalia department. Firstly, both were external. Most would assume that because krogan were a reptilian species that krogan housed their bits internally like turians did, but that just wasn't the case. Also the basic shape and design were similar.

But that's where the similarities ended, because where their two species differed, they really differed. Krogan cocks were generally much thicker than humans, but not super long, typically ranging from five to seven inches. Frid considered himself lucky to be on the far end of that spectrum, a detail he loved to flaunt. But their size was fitting to a species as large as they were, so it was always a surprise when Frid came across certain individuals, mainly asari or human, who thought krogan males were ridiculously hung. Like, jaw-droppingly huge. So when Frid would set these people straight on the facts that, no, he did not have a dick that could literally split a person in half, they often seemed disappointed. Weird aliens and their weird urban legends…

However, there was one thing about his kind that was one hundred percent true, and that was the notorious quad. Four balls, one sac, just like the two-in-one for a human, only bigger, heftier and, at one time, the ultimate sign of krogan virility. A nice tight four-pack in a leathery smooth pouch that fits well in krogan's large palm. Well, Frid's did at least, and he had pretty big hands. Fun to play with, aliens love 'em just as much as fellow krogan do, the best biological fidget toy for the bedroom. Frid chuckled at the thought. “Quad" was the all time favorite word used among all krogan, male and female, and for good reason. Their kind was all about fighting and breeding after all. And, honestly, what species wouldn't brag about having four testicles? C'mon, it's way cool. Speaking of quads though…

Frid stepped out the shorts that pooled at his feet and kicked them aside. He stroked his length slowly with a playful growl, reaching down to fondle his quad before monolithic human in black armor. Most of Frid's former human partners balked when seeing a krogan dick at full mast for the first time. Tack did not. A good sign.

Tack made a noise, like a low growl mixed with a groan, giving the cock between his legs a long stroke. The human took a step forward, and Frid took one back, the krogan's eyes locked on that magnificent throbbing organ. Suddenly, Frid felt a flare of panic well up inside his chest and threw his hands up in response.

“Wait, hold on now! You're not thinking about raw-dogging me with that big thing are ya?" he blurted out. Frid was no stranger to a good stretch here and there, but there was no way he would be able walk a straight line again after taking a monster like that. Not without a little prep first, at least.

Tack let out a heavy exhale like a steam vent. Although Frid could tell Tack was bothered by the hold up, he could sense that the human agreed. Luckily for them both, Frid was always prepared for a good time. Frid hurried over where his chest armor lay and dug about in the pouch hidden within his waist armor. He quickly produced a small vial of clear viscous fluid.

“Catch," Frid warned and tossed the bottle at Tack, who snatched the thing out of the air like an annoying fly. “Gun oil. Good for polishing the Claymore, among other things, heh. Hypoallergenic."

Tack examine the vial before nodding. This will work. Frid flashed him a toothy grin, very relieved and still very, very excited. The krogan glanced around, searching for a good place to get to business.

“Okay, where ya wanna do this?" Frid asked giddily. “It's not too clean on the floor, so—"

“Maybe you shouldn't worry about such things," Tack cut him off, and before Frid could get another word out, Tack had already closed the distance between them. He seized Frid by the bicep and practically dragged him over to one of the stone slab beds that circled the disused fountain. With a grunt, the krogan was thrown onto his back a top one with such force that Frid had to grab the edge to keep from sliding off the other end. “And let me fuck you."

Oh man, that was hot. Gotta love a guy who has a way with words.

Things were moving fast but Frid wasn't about to complain, not that Tack was giving him time to consider it anyways. Moments after he landed on the slab, Tack wrapped a gloved hand around Frid's the heel of his booted, digitigrade-shaped ankle and yanked the towards him along the top of the slab — with one hand. Damn, Tack was strong. Idly, Frid wondered how much the human could lift in that suit… Maybe he'd ask him later, if Tack left him in any state to do so by the time everything was said and done.

With a soft pop, the thumb of Tack's free hand flicked the cap off the lube bottle. Then, not one for ceremony, Tack pulled Frid's leg to the side, abruptly exposing the smooth valley between his ass cheeks, krogan cock flopping back against his hard belly with a slap. Frid gasped. Such brutish assertion was… almost krogan. And one hell of a turn on. This was going to be amazing.

Tack inverted the bottle and let the fluid drizzle out in a thin line directly into the center of Frid's quad, pooling in the middle before the shifting, contracting skin sent rivulets of lubricant down the cross section of furrows the four egg-sized balls made. Still warm…

Tack let gravity do the work, a steady stream of oil traveling over the sac and down through the valley below, flowing over his hole and spreading over his stubby tail. Apparently satisfied by the amount, Tack tossed the empty bottle away and used his newly freed hand to reach down and brush a few gloved fingers over the now drenched opening.

“Oh, fuck…" Frid rasped. Tack began to knead the area firmly and deliberately slow, the tips of a few fingers working themselves in and spreading the ring of muscle, slathering the hole thoroughly.

Frid's bit his lip, wide grin becoming dopey once again. Oh yeah, that's the stuff.

Then the digits sunk in deeper, until knuckles met sphincter, then Tack pressed his thumb pad into Frid's lubed perineum and massaged the spot. He felt the human scissoring his fingers inside, then retreat, only to suddenly sink back in again. Soon enough, Tack graduated from basic inspection to a steady pace of finger-fucking, each time sending Frid's mind spinning. Frid clenched his jaw and tried to stop his muscled legs from trembling. This was torture of the best kind, and Frid was enjoying it to it's fullest, but he had his limits. He felt his self-control waning, patience going from thin to non-existent in seconds. With a frustrated growl Frid glared down his body at the toying human.

“God damn it, Tack! If you don't put your dick in me right now, I'm going to lose my fucking mind!"

Tack seemed to chuckle, then granted the huffing krogan's wish, withdrawing his fingers, their absence leaving behind a void of emptiness inside Frid that made him whimper. Then the krogan jolted slightly when Tack pressed his thumb past the ring of muscle a final time to test the results of his efforts, finding the passage elastic and yearning.

“Yeah. You're ready," Tack confirmed, then grasped his cock and nudged the head against the opening, the tip sinking in smoothly without a modicum of resistance. Frid struggled not to tense up as an inch of shaft squeezed into him, mentally preparing himself to experience what he'd been craving since he laid eyes on the man. As the second inch worked its way in, sudden euphoria washed over Frid, head resting back into the concave spot of his hump. It felt every bit as good as he imagined…

Tack's hand switched from guiding his cock to grasp Frid's other ankle, hefting it up just like how the other leg was positioned, both now held up in a V-formation. Then, with one sharp thrust of his hips, Tack sunk his entire length inside Frid.

Frid slapped a hand over his mouth to stop a yelp from escaping. He saw stars. Never had he been filled up so deeply, so completely like this. The depths the human's cock reached contacted a spot sent dozens of rapturous shocks through his entire frame. What was that?

Now fulled seated inside Frid's velvety ass, Tack lifted the krogan's suddenly limp legs and tossed the dangling, armored ankles over his shoulders, their digitagrade anatomy allowing them to rest comfortably. Frid was too stunned to even notice, even when Tack wrapped his arms around his tree trunk thick thighs and held tightly.

Then without warning, Tack pulled his hips back and slid most his cock out until only the head remained inside, then slammed back in hard enough rock Frid's whole body along the slab underneath. Frid's senses came back like an anvil dropping on his skull. His mind screamed at him to roar out in pleasure, but when that beautiful cock came crashing through his insides, it was like a punch to the gut. The wind fled his lungs fled with a uncanny gasp, loud and shrill. He never thought a krogan, especially one such as himself, could make such a sound. Fuck it if it came off as weak or unmanly. He'd happily make that noise for all of eternity if this was the payoff. So, so worth it.

Tack reeled back and slammed in again. This time Frid found his voice and moaned out in ecstasy. His three-fingered hands shot between his legs, grasping and pumping his shaft wildly with one hand while tugging on his quad in the other. “Fuck me up," Frid demanded breathlessly, words rumbling out as if something primordial hidden deep within the recesses of his brain had been unlocked.

Tack obliged. Again, the human rammed his cock down inside Frid's clenching ass, the impact lurching Frid's entire body across the slab even rougher than before. Krogan males were anything but lightweights, easily around five hundred pounds, and Frid being the big boy he was, came in at well over eight hundred. Tack pushed all of that around with just his hips. Not even some of his fellow krogan could lay into him like that. If Frid's head wasn't overwhelmed as it was right then, he might have been able to marvel at that.

Tack went to work, pounding Frid like a hammer on a nail, air forced from the krogan's many lungs from the inside out in higher-pitched, shameless cries. Frid's blood rushed, deafeningly roaring in his ears as hearts thumped like engine pistons, the human fucking him at a near blur, wet slaps of armored hips on hardened reptilian flanks filling the room.

Frid pumped his raging hard-on with both hands like a madman, his vision clouding as he already felt an orgasm quickly creeping up. He couldn't cum this early, he refused to. Unloading like some touch-starved pup on prom night was an embarrassment he'd never let himself live down. Easier said than done.

Propped up by the domed shape of his hump, Frid had a clear view of all the happenings below, even though he barely had the willpower to lift his head from its resting spot. He saw the flurry of his own hands over his cock, the armored form of the ebony warrior looming over him flexing with strength as the human worked tirelessly to claim his supine body like a war trophy. Like some fuckable piece of exotic alien meat that belonged to him and him alone.

Then something caught Frid's eye. Over the mountain range of soft-scaled abs, at his belly… Was his gut moving? A little bump would appear then disappear at his belly each time Tack hilted deep inside him. That couldn't be. Was Tack actually able to… Frid knew Tack was big, but he had no idea— Frid let go of his cock and placed a hand over his undulating belly, feeling the muscle lurch into his fingers from underneath. Unreal…

Frid raised his eyes to find the faceless, darkened visor of the destroyer's helmet staring back at him. Tack had been watching Frid closely this whole time; he could feel the man eyes drinking in the way the big, bad krogan squirmed on his dick, listening intently to each and every sound he wrangled out of him, gaze piercing and hungry.

Hungry for Frid.

“O-oh!" Frid gasped. He couldn't hold back any longer. He fisted his cock down to the base, body seizing like he'd been zapped with a bolt of lightning and clenching his jaw so hard he teeth creaked. Then he let out a roar unlike any he had before. The end of his cock flared and a fierce blast of white-hot seed jetted forth, rocketing out and striking Frid directly on his spiky chin. The next splattering his throat, cum pooling into his hump cowl to warm his neck. Then between his chest muscles, drenching pecs and sternum, rapid-firing ebbs glazing down his torso and belly in a wash of pearly, cream-colored spunk. He kept cumming even as the well ran dry, cum oozing over his clenched fingers as his legs twitched in Tack's grasp, his head lolling back into the hollow of his hump behind him. Meanwhile, Tack had buried himself fully into Frid's clenching innards until he bottomed out, the krogan's stretched, convulsing ring kissing the base of the shaft. He held there, letting Frid ride out the afterglow of such a world-shattering orgasm.

Frid's body crashed hard after that, hand releasing spend cock to flop lifelessly to his side. He lay there for a moment, puffing heavily to calm his racing pulse and replenish some much needed oxygen. No… no, not yet. Again. He had to go again. He had to keep going. He just… needed a moment to recover.

Once he had the strength to lift his arms, Frid wiped a hand through the mess of his chest and stared at the white stickiness coating his palm and digits, rubbing the goo between his fingers, feeling the potent viscosity of his emission. He couldn't remember the last time he came this hard. Easily at the top of the list of best climaxes he'd ever felt. Not even some of his first times were this intense.

An insistent roll of armored hips against his flanks brought him back to the present. Quizzically, Frid glanced down at Tack. The human had put a hold on fucking him, slightly swaying his hips and settling himself more solidly inside Frid. The human's cock was still hard as stone, still throbbing with need. Wait. Tack hadn't got off yet? Frid was impressed Tack had such control over his urges, very gentlemanly to let his partner finish first as well, but this just won't do. Frid had a job to finish. Time to rock this human's world.

With a confident smirk, Frid reached down to his ass and grasped a cheek in each hand, spreading the tender glutes apart and wiggling himself onto the the cock he was speared upon.

“Keep going. Don't stop until you finish!" Frid beckoned him, motioning with an upward nod as if to say, 'come and get it.'

Tack let out an approving growl-like groan, then sharply pulled out and slammed back into Frid hard enough that the krogan yelped in surprise. Frid's head dropped back and he bellowed out another loud moan, stars flashing before his eyes. But then Tack eased his grip Frid's thighs and climb up on the bed, a confused sound rising from the krogan. He expected the human to continue fucking him as is until he got his rocks off, but it seemed Tack had other plans. Feet still over the man's shoulders, Tack moved over top of the krogan, Frid's thighs folding against his cum-slathered chest and ass lifting up into Tack's lap as Frid was nearly folded in half, knees now hooked over black shoulder armor. All the while, Tack's cock remained snugly tucked inside Frid's passage.

Now Frid was face-to-mask with Tack, and he suddenly felt a surge of shyness crash over him for some reason, glancing away a little sheepishly. “You're, uh, going to get your armor messy," Frid awkwardly warned.

Tack chuckled, leaning his head down close to tap his helmeted forehead to Frid's head crest. “I don't mind," he said, voice like liquid sex laced with pure testosterone. Frid shivered and couldn't help letting out a tiny moan. Damn, this human had him wrapped around his finger, and he was loving every second of it.

Tack released Frid's sturdy legs and placed a hand on either side of Frid's upper body to prop himself up. This position was new to Frid, one which felt strange yet incredibly arousing, and surprisingly comfortable. Huh. He could get used to it. Certainly when Tack lifted his hips and slammed down onto him with his full weight behind the drop. Amazingly, this way somehow drove Tack's cock even deeper than before, the head-rush Frid receiving from it setting his body alight with tingling fire.

Again, Tack went to work, push-up fucking the krogan mercilessly, hips colliding to the wide pelvis below in solid cum-soaked plaps. Whatever Tack's delving cockhead was smashing into in there was like a krogan on-switch. Usually it took a minute or two of steady ramming for Frid to get hard for round two, but this time Frid was good to go in seconds. “God damn, this is wild…" Frid murmured softly.

Tack huffed out a soft laugh in agreement, changing pace from push-ups to forward, rolling arches of his lower back, like waves on an ocean, pleasure crashing onto Frid's lust-racked body. Frid's cock, now pinned between their conjoined bodies, pulsed and leaked, oozing more onto his belly which ran down his cum-gutter abs to dampen where their hips met. Frid latched onto the sides of Tack's upper arms, urging the man on with firm tugs, gripping the unyielding steel between his fingers. The battlesuit was made with good stuff; it didn't so much as creak under the pressure of krogan hands, a fitting set of armor for such a man.

Tack changed tactics, quick thrusts attacking Frid's needy hole at different angles, swaying hips side to side. Tack's shaft struck a new untouched area and Frid bit his lower lip, eyes screwing shut, stealing a blissfully loud grunt from him. Frid did his best to keep himself from composed and in control, but with each descent, each time the human's unyielding cock plowed through his guts, he felt himself getting more and more lost to his cravings. He squirmed under Tack, pelvis rotating wildly as his instinct-driven mind unconsciously demanded he pull Tack down harder onto him. If Tack didn't have such a good hold onto his legs, Frid would've wrapped them around the man and snapped his spine in two. Perhaps that's why Tack did it, knowing he needed to keep Frid from getting too rowdy. Whatever the case, Frid's feet kicked unhappily in protest, toes splaying out in humid air, and he puffed a ragged sigh of mild annoyance at the human. Frid shot a glare at Tack with a weak half-grin.

“You're gonna make me cum again if you keep this up," he teasingly warned, a notable quiver in his voice.

Tack lowered his helmeted head lower until it was a hair's breadth away from Frid's face. Frid could swear he could see Tack grinning behind the darkened glass.

“Then do it," Tack ordered huskily.

Aw-Shit-shit-shit-not-yet-uurragh! Frid arched his back and grit his teeth, hands clutching even harder on Tack as his whole body spasmed. This time was less of a roar and more of a guttural, strangling growl. Frid's cock throbbed and shot its second load of the evening, equally intense as the first. Thick cum splashed over his belly and chest, still tacky from the first layer, coating Tack's abdominal armor plating with friendly fire.

Frid's groaned as his head dropped back again. “Grrnn motherfuckin— do you ever cum, man?" he exasperated, draping a forearm over his brow.

Tack merely chuckled and righted himself to kneeling, letting Frid legs limply flop to the slab-bed below. “We humans are known for our stamina," he quipped.

“Heh, right, no kidding. Your stamina is insane."

“Thank you. And I'm not done yet," Tack lightly slapped Frid's broad, scaled thigh. “Get on your hands and knees."

Frid eagerly obeyed, grunting as he sat up while Tack stepped down from the bed to give Frid room. With a quick “Hup!" Frid rolled over and pushed his upper body up by the elbows, knees following suit to position himself in the position Tack desired. It was a practiced motion, one that Frid had found quite handy. Nothing worse than to have all that prime cum-covered real estate ruined by mixing in stuff on the ground, like grass or dirt, or in this case, with centuries-old sand and dust. Ick.

Now properly on his hands and knees, Frid looked back over his shoulder and around his hump to shoot Tack a decidedly haughty smirk. Frid took a lot of pride in how great his ass looked. Muscled yet sculpted, round and plaint, nice cushion for the pushin'. Leg days really helped him obtain such a pristine set of cheeks, but some of it was just in the genes. It helped his sire's job was basically running around on a football field all day and night. Frid got lucky in that regard, and by association, so did Tack, as the human was about to experience what such good genes could do.

Frid spread his knees further apart, letting his glistening goods list freely as he reached a hand back to tug a cheek aside, exposing the tender, winking hole to the human watching intently. Some of the cum saturating Frid's inverted front began to flow back down his belly due to gravity, the viscous gooey stuff running down his thighs and dangling cock, dripping from the tip as it gathered with what still seeped from the flared slit. Tack paused, taking in the sight, and exhaled heavily enough that his vocalizer crackled.

Good, good, keep going. Make him want it more. Frid traced a finger around the rim of his entrance in slow, deliberate circles, then sunk a fingertip past the trembling ring and working itself around. Frid let out a soft, sultry moan, tugging the ring open, massaging what little oil remained back into his passage as slowly and audibly as he could.

“Oof, you really broke me in, Tack." Frid's voice was smoky and laden with lust. He swayed his hips enticingly as his short stubby tail waggled in anticipation before his finger went back to join the other two in prying his cheek to the side, a thin trail of oil left behind as it did so. “I've been wanting this all day. Don't make me beg~!"

Again, Tack obliged. He moved behind Frid, knees hitting the floor with a tremendous thud. Tack's hand brushed Frid's away, taking its place as the other busied itself with lining up his still hard, engorged cock with Frid's hole. Frid's arms tensed and quivered when he felt it touch his opening, sliding up and down through the valley. Even better, he could hear it. Wet and sticky. Slsh slsh slsh… Then Tack pressed his cockhead past the yielding sphincter and squeezed its way inside. Frid all but purred a deep, heavenly rumble.

Tack took his time with the first stroke, sinking in sure and steady, right down until his cock was fully seated in krogan ass, armored hips to muscled backside. The sigh Frid let out was one of pure relief, as if that perfect human cock nestling him was a lost piece of himself that found its way back home.

Swiftly, Tack hauled back again and rammed back into Frid's clenching fuck tunnel, the hammering starting immediately, sounds of metal hips clapping against broad scale-plated hide music to the dance. Frid growled passionately, moving back against Tack in time with his thrusts, getting as much distance between them so when impact came down the extra room made it doubly hard.

Tack puffed out ragged breaths, fucking Frid fast and and relentless. Like a krogan. Frid's moans grew louder and he glanced back at Tack, seeing the human nearly hunched over his rear and humping wildly. Tack was close to cumming, Frid could feel it, the cock plundering his guts growing hotter and desperately throbbing each time it buried deep inside.

Then suddenly Tack let go of Frid's hips and lunged forward, hands grabbing the hump cowling behind the krogan's neck and pulling! Frid's back arched and he cried out in surprise, his hands going from gripping the slab below him to flailing in the air. Where Tack grabbed him was krogan blind spot, an area his kind had a difficult time reaching, and with his lower back forced into a bend, Frid was at the mercy of this human.

Tack took complete control, and Frid couldn't me happier. “Yes!" he bellowed out. “That's it. Fuck me like you own me, human!"

Tack must have heard him, because even through the haze of wildly fucking the krogan's brains out, the man's growling grunts gradually became louder, more fervent, more frustrated by the second.

Smack-smack-smack-smack! Frid let out near-screams of ecstasy with each clap against his ass, the human cock drilling him out like an oil rig, so ferocious that Frid thought if it split him open any wider, all of his hearts would give out. This was new, unknown territory for Frid. He'd fucked and been fucked by plenty of guys (and some ladies) in his lifetime, but never like this, not by any human.

“Not good enough," Tack snarled out of the blue.

Then before Frid had a chance to comprehend what was happening, with the human's cock still lodged firmly deep inside him and hands still holding onto cowling… Tack stood up.

And took Frid with him.

Frid was lifted clear off the stone slab bed and up, up, up! As he ascended, Tack let one hand go of his hump cowl and hooked it under Frid's armpit, curling and holding tight so the other arm could do the same.

To say Frid was disoriented would be an understatement. Just seconds ago he went from down on his hands and knees to being strung up like a puppet in Tack's grasp, legs weakly swinging in the air as they tried to find purchase, dangling three-toed foot tips barely scraping the bed below. Tack's cock acted like a curved hook of flesh that held Frid aloft, the krogan speared on the end while the human cocktip ground into that special ultra-sensitive spot rigorously.

Frid could hardly mumble his confusion to the human before Tack hauled the krogan's upper body back, seating him better over Tack's lap. Leaning back, compensating for Frid's hump, Tack thrust his hips up, bumping Frid's ass and lifting the wide posterior upwards, only to ride back down onto the human's raging dick as gravity did it's work. Frid bellowed, bounced up and down as Tack power fucked him straight up in the air, proud and impossibly hard krogan cock swinging in the wind, smacking his hardened belly as strands of precum whipped about in graceful arcs. He writhed against the human, hump plates grinding against obsidian chest armor while the krogan's hands flexed and grasped at nothing.

The proud krogan was reduced to a warbling, wailing mess, head lolling about like a bobble-head figurine on a shuttle dashboard, gigantic frame bounding up and down on the magnificent cock plunging into his ass. Every nerve in Frid's body was alight with tingling fire, overloaded, his head awash in dopamine and adrenaline. The sound he was making were muted in his own ears, but Frid knew they were loud and desperate, laden with need. It urged Tack on, the human grunting fiercely as he jackhammered Frid's perfectly muscled and pliant krogan ass, shaft punching over the prostate and deeper until he bottom out in Frid's guts, belly undulating like a snake was burrowing behind the taut lower abs. Oh God, s-so full…

Frid had never felt so exposed before. Krogan didn't leave themselves open like that, even when it came to sex, always having a degree of control just in case anything happened. It was in their DNA to always be on guard no matter what. But for Frid, here in Tack's embrace, there was no control, no guarantee of safety. No escape. If Tack wanted to, he could finish him right here, end him as he was lost to pleasure, completely vulnerable. But Frid didn't care, if he died right now and wouldn't regret a thing. This dick was too good to miss. Every gamble he took to get here, every chance, was so, so worth it. Tack was taking the krogan just how he wanted: hard, fast, and strong, the human's cock pulsing and the head thrumming with each delving slam, sweat-and-oil-slick ballsac smacking into the krogan's own with wet slaps as two met four.

Brutal seconds passed, Tack sped up, growling like a feral beast against Frid's back hump. Frid's voice get louder and louder, a mix of ragged curses and frantic begging. Suddenly Frid's entire massive frame spasmed, passage clamping down on Tack's rigid dick, and the krogan roared so loud Frid was certain his ancestors could hear it. His nerves were racked with the power of a dozen orgasms zapping his systems at once. Thick, pearly white cum fired from the flaring tip of his cock in a single powerful arc, easily launched farther that he'd ever reached before.

Tack couldn't hold out any longer. As Frid came, rope after rope of his jizz raining down on the floor below, velvety cavern clamping upon the throbbing cock within him, Tack gave one final thrust, sinking in entirely and grinding his hips up against firm, welcoming krogan ass. The human's cock lurched within Frid's bowels and unloaded at last, filling up the passage to the brim with the first stream. Tack continued to pump as he rode out the high, jostling the bellowing krogan's trembling body around like a rag doll. Frid clenched and rippled around Tack's rod, straining to contain the semen flooding his guts, failing despite the herculean effort as rivulets of human cum leaked past the tight seal of the ring of muscle, flowing down the shaft to soak the churning balls hard at work.

Every muscle in Frid's was as taut as steel cables, cock bobbing in the air with each spurt of cum, painting everything before him in sticky white webs. If he still had the ability to comprehend the concept of numbers after being fucked so wonderfully stupid, he would've lost count of how many times he came, round after round of prime krogan seed landing with soft plaps below. Eventually, Frid reached the final ebbs of climax, power and speed lessening until red and raw krogan dick flagged, lazily drooling a steady trickle of cum to join the sea of ivory slime at his feet.

Frid made a sound akin to a gurgle and went slack in Tack's arms. For his part, Tack kept a firm hold on the krogan, handling the alien's weight as if it were no more than a cumbersome bag of feathers. Carefully, Tack lowered Frid down to the slab under them, unhooking his arms and doing his best to let the big guy down as easily as possible.

When Frid's trembling knees touched stone, Tack gently let him go, his cock wet popping free and unleashing a torrent of rich human semen that poured out from the gaping, worn out hole. Frid fell forward gracelessly into a puddle of his own jizz with a resounding splat, groaning from the impact.

“Ffffuucckkk…" Frid ground out. His body rested in the gooey mess of his own making for what felt like minutes in the afterglow, no thoughts left in his empty head. His body would've dried up like a raisin from amount of fluids used up and now was literally soaking in, if not for the reserves in his hump. Thank god for that. His first though when his mind finally came back together was that he needed a big glass of water.

After a few moments of recovery time, Frid rolled onto his side with a heavy grunt. He watched Tack casually walk back to the table they sat at before and reclaim his codpiece, snapping the thing back into place. Frid swung his legs over the side of the bed-slab, semen dripping from everything below the shoulders. He tied to stand, but his legs quivered like they were made of rubber straws trying to hold up a hundred pound kettlebell. So instead Frid opted to just sit there, hands on knees, and wait for his blood to calm and breath to catch.

“Need help?" Tack offered, checking the seals of his armor and brushing the front of his chest plate clean of nearly dry krogan semen.

Frid waved a hand in dismissal. “Nah, I'm good," he said, making another attempt to stand, only his legs to wobble and give out again, stumbling back onto the slab. Wow, he felt like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet. Just about every inch of him ached, but pleasurably so, like the kind felt after super intense workout.

Frid hissed sorely, thought about it, then relented. “Okay, maybe not."

Tack was already on his way over. He extended his hand, and Frid was about to do the same when he noticed his palm was slick with his own cum. He glanced around for a place to wipe it clean, resolving to just brush it off on the ground, figuring the trade off from jizz to dirt was the better option. The krogan's large mitt slapped into Tack's gloved hand, and the human pulled him to his feet in a single tug, a hand clapping onto Frid's opposite shoulder to steady him.

“Thanks," Frid said with a big, dopey smile. “That was awesome. For a human, you sure know how to fuck. Sure you're not part krogan?"

“Just a plain old human. And you're welcome," Tack replied, letting Frid stand on his own. He gave the krogan a once over and Frid followed suit, looking down at himself to find a gooey accumulation of sand, dust and rapidly drying krogan emissions. Yech. He could try to wipe it off but didn't see much point, there was just too much of the stuff.

“Guess I'll need a rinse. No way I can put my armor back on like this."

“Naturally," Tack quipped. “And you can't return to the shuttle naked."

“Heh, Fendi would have a stroke," Frid chuckled. “Shouldn't be too hard to find some water pipes around here or something. And, uh, speaking of showers and stuff, sorry again for peeping on ya earlier."

Tack shrugged. “No harm done."

Frid rubbed the back of his head modestly, accidentally smearing some stickiness there, which he pretended he didn't just do. “Still," he said, clearing his throat. “I don't know if you know this, but scars are seen as a badge of honor among my kind. Old soldiers without scars aren't seen as true warriors. So yours don't bother me, if you're worried or anything. I like 'em actually."

Tack canted his head, amusedly exhaling a breath. “Is that so?" he asked, sounding a smidge flattered.

“Yeah," Tack replied with his token toothy grin. “You'd be a hit with the ladies."

Tack made a laugh, a real bona fide chortle and made Frid's hearts skip. “Thanks, Frid. That's very kind of you to say."

Frid playfully waved him off. “Bah, don't mention it. I should seriously find a shower though. If this stuff crusts up, it's gonna be pain to get rid of."

Tack pointed behind Frid, who turned to see a weather-beaten sign with an arrow marked “public showers".

“So you can read ancient krogan too, huh?" Frid commended.

“Among other things," Tack replied casually. Frid snorted a laugh. Full of surprises, this guy. “We've been gone too long. I'll help you search."

Frid held his arms wide in a be-my-guest manner. “The more the merrier! Oh and Tack?"

“Hmm?"

“You can watch if you want."

===

They returned to the lobby to find a rather impatient Fendi pacing back and forth, Ranz in the exact same spot as before looking completely unbothered, per usual. Clean as a whistle and only a little damp still, Frid almost strutted back inside, grin satisfied and wide, looking like he just won the global Earth lottery. Tack, for his part, casually appeared like their jaunt around the building was nothing more than routine. No way he didn't just rail a giant krogan into a puddle of boneless, sentient goo only minutes earlier. No siree, who would ever think that? Well Ranz did apparently, judging by the knowingly sly grin he gave them as he saw them approach.

The second the salarian spotted the two, he threw his hands up with a cry of relief. “There you are! Where were you guys, it's been over an hour! Is this building that big to check? Jeez…"

Frid dismissed the chiding with a wave of his hand. “Chill, tadpole. We had a storm kick up and had to wait it out. I had some ryncol stashed and decide to share a little with the MVP here." Frid nudged Tack with an elbow as the human walked past, who gave a appreciative nod in return then leaned up against the shuttle.

Ranz put his feet down and mock glowered at Frid. “Ryncol? Nice of you to offer me some."

Frid looked profoundly apologetic and started to reach for the flask inside his armor. “I still have some, if you want…"

Ranz chuckled and stood up, stretched and popped just about every bone in his back with a sigh of relief. “I'm just messing with you, Frid. I prefer my insides un-melted, thank you."

Fendi looked utterly confused by the whole exchange. “What the heck is ryncol?"

Ranz patted the top of Fendi's horned head like one would a child. “You're too young to drink something that strong, little guy."

“Grah!" Fendi grimaced and shooed Ranz's hands away. “Oh, so it's booze! Okay, I get it. And for the record, I am older enough to drink and I am not little! I'm as tall as you, Ranz! Don't pick on your pilot, I'll fly us into a mountain out of spite."

Frid laughed and folded his arms. “You're feisty all the sudden. What's got you so worked up?"

“HQ bumped up the ETD, we gotta be out of here in about twenty minutes," Fendi gruffed back, still a little sore from the teasing.

“Twenty minutes?!" Frid barked. “Why didn't you try to contact us by onmi-tool?"

Fendi puffed a sigh and glared at Ranz. “I would have but someone insisted I monitor transmission feed. He said it was part of my punishment for… neglecting to inform everyone else about HQ's earlier communication."

All eyes went to Ranz, who shrugged apathetically. “I knew you'd both be back eventually," he said plainly, then gave the smallest of winks with a single eye at Frid, the message relayed loud and clear: I got you, bros. Frid grinned back and nodded his thanks.

“Is the shuttle ready?" Tack bluntly asked. Fendi, still unused to Tack actually speaking to him, fumbled his words.

“Oh! Uh, y-yeah! Just finishing up the final prep. We should be good to go in ten once the engines are in recharged."

“Well then," Ranz said, climbing back into the shuttle. “Guess I'll check the weapons systems. Don't want any Cerberus cruisers getting any ideas."

Fendi climbed in behind him. “I'll run diagnostics on electrical and engine systems. Can't wait to get someplace not irradiated."

Frid waved them off sardonically. “We'll just wait here. I guess." He glanced at where Tack had settled on a rubble-made bench before deciding to join him, taking the open spot next to him. Frid winces, still a little tender from earlier. It was a nice ache though, in its own way.

“I know I said it a few times already, but I had a lot of fun. You did a number on me, but damn if it wasn't worth it," Frid said.

Tack hummed in a way that said you're welcome, the krogan nodding back, jade eyes idly taking in the crumbling environment of the lobby.

Frid sighed heavily. “You know," he said with a tinge of remorse. “When we get back, we're going to be assigned to new squads."

Tack nodded lowly, no hum this time. “Placing the right people with the right skills in the right places. It must be done," he resolved with a notably resolute voice, yet still quieter than usual, as close to lamenting as Frid had ever heard him.

“Yeah," Frid exhaled. “Shame. We made a great team, all four of us. But what can ya do?"

“What we're good at. Kill the enemy. Win the war," Tack replied immediatelyly, deadly serious. Frid half-smiled. Tenacious human, this one. He bumped Tack's elbow with his own.

“With us out there, it'll be in the bag soon enough, eh?" Frid chuckled. Tack amusedly shook his head and relax his rigid posture. Seeing the man cheered up even a little bit made pride bloom in Frid's chest.

“Hey," Frid said, getting the human's attention. “Let's stay in touch. When this all said and done, I'll get you a proper drink instead of one out of a flask."

“I like the flask," Tack replied honestly.

Frid patted his chest armor where it was hidden behind. “I'll make sure to bring it then. And in case you need a little relief after some of these jobs, I know a few others out there who'd love to meet you."

Tack pondered. “We'll see," he replied simply, and Frid chortled. He was already a little giddy in anticipation. Heh, score.

A few minutes of quiet pass, only the whistling sound of wind buffeting the hospital ruins and the crackling of falling stone to be heard. Until Frid decided it was too peaceful and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“So do all N7 types fuck like you do or just the ones from Rio? Just asking for future reference."

“Guys!" Fendi's shout made Frid jump; Tack remained unfazed. The salarian's head poked out from the cockpit, and he looked absolutely ecstatic. “Got good news! Command was so impressed with the results on our last mission, they have a new one lined up already! We leave as soon as we get back to the staging ship."

“Where?" Frid asked, hearts still pounding from the fright Fendi gave him.

“Noveria! Some more Cerberus set up camp there and they want us to clean them out."

Tack was already up and making a beeline for the shuttle as soon as the name Cerberus dropped. Frid didn't even have time to consider asking more details, immediately hopping up and hurriedly following Tack's lead. The man was moving at light-speed, already sat down and buckled in before the krogan even set foot inside the ship. Frid deftly claimed the spot across from him and belted in as well. Already his pulse was racing as the yearning for battle drummed up inside him by the second, wide grin exuding child-like delight. More fight, more fun, yes yes yes!

“How long until we get there?" Tack sharply asked towards the cockpit.

Ranz glanced back at him. “Not long, maybe a few hours. They're fast-tracking us to arrive ASAP. Just wish it wasn't someplace so goddamn cold though."

The engines rumble to life as Fendi and Ranz prep for take off, cabin vibrating with their ignition while ship systems booted up with electrical bells and whistles. Frid shot a quick, sneaky leer over at Tack, who noticed, head-tilting in question.

“Say, do you think there will be more 'perimeter-checking' to do once we get done with this mission?"

Tack exhaled thickly into his mouthpiece, an honest-to-god laugh if Frid ever heard one. “We'll see," Tack replied knowingly.

“What are you two talking about?" Fendi asked over his shoulder with a brow raised.

“Fly the shuttle, Fendi, we got places to be," barked Ranz, barely drawing the salarian back to the task at hand.

Fendi grumbled, flicking a few more screen prompts into activation, then glanced back at the two passengers, looking just as confused as before. “As much as you guys kick ass, you're both weird as hell, man."

Frid and Tack exchanged looks, seemed to agree with the salarian, then both shrugged back at their pilot in sync.