She'd never seen Omega like this before; dusty, empty, devoid of life, it's the kind of morning after when you simply do not want to remember what you'd done the night before. The night she was still in the middle of. Alcohol made her steps slightly unsteady, made the usual swagger she had less cutthroat dangerous and more... sensuous, more hips and curves under her leather pants and untucked tank top.
The quiet is jarring, the lack of movement makes her feel like a trespasser. Which she is, really. This is Aria's domain and it feels even more filled with the Asari than usual now. The lone bar tender watches her for a moment, his look unreadable as he glances toward Aria's perch. His rag is dropped and he's out of there before she even has a chance to greet him; no one disturbs Aria T'loak.
But she isn't no one.
Fingertips brush up the banister, and it isn't just so she can scale the stairs without falling over.
And then there she is. Aria. She isn't sat like she usually would be; arms outstretched over the back of the curving purple couch, a fake halo of the hallogram behind her, her body screaming power and strength. No. Someone has brought a table in front of her and it's scattered with paper, with things. Dishevelled. Just as the Asari looks. Her expression is unreadable as her eyes sweep over her. No, not unreadable just apprehensive, something she'd never seen on Aria's features before. The momentary vulnerability surprised her, even as she enjoyed the tiny amount of power she had right then.
The name makes her recoil, hand catching on the edge of the table with a thunk and she shakes her head a little, dark hair tumbling in her eyes. Does anyone know her name any more? Or will she always be Shepard now? Commander Shephard, the First Human Spectre. Just as the woman before her is Aria T'Loak, the Queen of Omega.
"Not tonight," she murmurs, pushing the table back a little, ignoring the pointed look from Aria. A look which softens into surprise as she slid down into her lap. Aria's hands easily catching at leather clad hips, one sneaking just beneath the black tank top to tease at pale skin at her waist.
Whatever uncertainty had held them for a moment, eyes locked, lips inches from one another is gone when Aria's hand lifts to tangle in her long dark hair, yanking her head back almost painfully to expose her throat. Dusky blue lips trace up pale skin, nipping lightly against her pulse before finding her ear. It is the whisper more than the touch which makes her shiver and growl in one, makes her twist downward to catch lips which teased her only moments ago.