This is fill for a Chakwas/Zaeed pairing masskink prompt on Live Journal. It contains smut, but a classy British kind of smut. So enjoy.
Oh and the characters belong to Bioware, the smut is my own.
Take me back to dear old Blighty!
Put me on the train for London town!
Take me over there,
Drop me ANYWHERE,
Liverpool, Leeds, or Birmingham, well, I don't care!
"Thank bloody hell!" she exclaimed loudly and threw the data pad across a nearby desk top.
Talking to herself had become common place since she joined Cerberus. Medical care appeared to be a lowly priority here, regularly leaving her with few staff and little companionship. Unless you could include the constant stream of petty medical issues when the crew was in down time as something remotely like socialising, which she didn't, there was very little currently keeping her from the throes of boredom.
She rubbed her neck. God what she wouldn't give to have someone's strong hands rubbing her aching muscles. She missed the cheap and cheerful Chinese massage houses of London from her student days, a few lowly credits would ensure some impoverished immigrant would give her neck and shoulders exactly the kind of firm massage she craved, fully clothed of course, as was the style, but immensely pleasurable all the same. But it had been a long time she'd been on Earth, and too long a time since anyone had given her anything she craved.
She stared at the bottle of Serrice iced brandy tucked behind a monitor. "Bugger this" she said, and grabbed the now quarter full bottle, sat herself down on a chair, and poured herself a glass, a very, very, large glass.
The alcohol, dripping velvety rivulets down her parched throat, sent a shiver down her spine. She rubbed at her neck again, closed her eyes and dreamt of Changpu, the man who had been the most talented of masseuses. He was from Wuhan; he had rough workman's hands that assaulted the pain in her body with exceptional skill. He once told her his name meant 'forever simple'. She laughed at the memory, that's exactly how she liked her men, rough and simple.
Her reverie was broken by the sound of an opening door. Damn! Who the hell is this...she slammed her glass on the desk and swivelled her chair around. But rather than respond to the intruder with anger, her voice was edged with surprise.
"Mr Massani?"
"Hi Doc, sorry to bother you..."
Her surprise at seeing him was to be expected, he never came to the med bay unless the Commander ordered him.
"What can I do for you Mr Massani?" her words came out unintentionally slurred and just a tad seductive sounding. She hoped it would sound more like fatigue than slight drunkenness. He gave her a sly grin before continuing.
"That bloody teenage krogan, he came down to have a chat, wanted me to talk through old time, past missions, old battles. He got overly excited and almost dislocated my arm from the socket. Thought I could tough it out but...I haven't been able to sleep and if I don't do something I don't think I'll sleep easy tomorrow night either. Can you give me something for the pain Doc?"
"Mr Massani, I can't just dole out drugs without assessing the damage first," she sighed, once, just once, couldn't it be simple? She couldn't just hand the drugs over and let it pass; she wouldn't let her professionalism slip, no matter how tipsy, tired or annoyed she felt. However, there were certain advantages...she looked Zaeed up and down, it wasn't always bad. She always enjoyed playing doctor to some of the male soldiers on board, and she put this grizzled old mercenary on that list, he had a nice body and even though she'd had limited exposure to him she liked him.
A wide grin emerged on her face. "Now, take your shirt off!" she ordered.
"Doc, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were coming on to me with that sort of talk." Zaeed cheekily replied and returned her drunken grin.
She let out a loud snort and guffaw "My interest in you is purely professional Mr Massini."
"Professional hey? I've had lots of 'professional' relationships in my time Doc." He mimicked her snort.
"I suspect the kind of professional relationships you are referring to are not ones I am familiar with." She tried to stifle a laugh but it didn't work, it came out loud and raucous. "Bed, now." She said, and pointed to the closest med bay bunk.
"Who am I to argue with someone so eloquent, yet who also has the dirtiest laugh since Sid James." He moved to the bed removing pieces of his armour as he went.
She looked confused, "Sid James?"
"Oh c'mon Doc, you're English, you can't tell me you don't know who Sid James is? You know, the Carry On movies from Earth? I'm sure in every elementary school from London to Dorchester it was required viewing." He raised the eyebrow over his good eye.
She shook her head "Sorry no idea." It was true she didn't. She'd grown up in Tonbridge, Kent, moved to London to attend medical school, but her relatively sheltered upbringing meant she rarely saw things her parents had considered crass. Even in her wild student days that particular part of English culture had somehow side stepped her.
She began to examine his shoulder. He'd lived a hard life, she marvelled at the scars on his back, old bullet wounds, numerous scratches, what looked like a cut from a sharp knife, but his muscles were firm, very firm, oh god they were so so firm. She closed her eyes and thoughts of Changpu returned. Oh Changpu how I miss your firm hands!
She opened her eyes, and in sauciest voice said, "Mr Massani, tell me more about Sid James and his dirty laugh..."
"Well Doc, do you really want me to tell you more? I mean I could go on for hours about the Carry On films, for example Carry On Camping embodied everything that a good Carry On film should have - nudist camps, a finishing school for girls and of course Sid James. But perhaps all you need to know is that the films coincided with the British sexual revolution...a time when the English gentry became fascinated with all things Cockney..." he followed this fact with a roguish wink, "and of course during twentieth century England, London in the sixties was a swinging place, mind you it still is, even 200 years later. Of course it's..." he emitted a low and obviously painful grunt as she pulled his arm upwards. "Bloody hell woman what are you doing?" he exclaimed.
"Mr Massani please, I am trying to determine if the issue with your arm and shoulder is due to something more than a strained muscle. I thought you would be used to worse than this, considering the life you've lead, I'm not trying to torture you. But please do continue your discourse on English media and social history..." her tone was accompanied by a mischievous grin.
"I think you're enjoying this Doc. Seeing an old merc giving in to pain." He winced as she rotated his arm in the socket, lifting his elbow to the side.
"Yes maybe I am, but that's what happens when you walk in at the end of my shift." she laughed, conscious now that it was decidedly saucy sounding. "I have good news, it appears that it's just muscular, nothing too serious, a few physiotherapy sessions, some medigel and you'll be fine." She gave him her best Doctors reassuring smile.
"Physiotherapy? You mean massage?" He tilted his head.
"Of sorts yes." She nodded.
"From you?" He gave her a questioning look.
"Ahhh, well, I am a trained professional, I could do it, yes." She smiled curiously at him not sure where this was headed.
"I like my massages very firm." He moved to replace his shirt that had been under his armour. She couldn't help but stare at his chest as he did. Her head had begun to spin a little; the alcohol still coursing through her veins was making her forget where she was.
"Yes, well, myself, I like it hard..firm." Her eyes were still fixated on Zaeed's torso, not realising the innuendo behind her words and feeling only disappointment as his body was being slowly covered by clothing.
"Hard?" His voice was playful as he noticed the direction of her gaze.
"Oh yes and vigorous." She said naively. But then she felt her face flush crimson, it suddenly dawned on her how bawdy her words sounded.
"Vigorous hey?" with this he took a step closer to her so that he was well within her personal space, "Doc, I noticed you keep rubbing your neck, it looks
like you're in need of a firm hand yourself...perhaps I can..., here turn around." he motioned for her to turn.
"Ummm…. oh…Ahhh okay..." she felt his hands move to the top of her tunic, releasing the clasp from the formfitting collar. His hands were now on her bare skin, and she quivered slightly as they slid to the back of her neck. They were as she expected, course, calloused, rough.
