Author's Notes:
I had to write this. It's been in my mind too long, just screaming to get out. It's rated M, basically for the first chapter, the rest could be considered T. If you're not 18 (or whatever age limit is approved by your country), don't get me into trouble for reading this. Just skip to the second chapter, you'll make sense of the story as is. The fic pretty much pleads its case on it's own, so...enjoy!
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the main characters or most of the settings that appear here, except for the Stellar Drifter and its surroundings. All rights reserved.
Judgement
She looks at me as though she would cry, but it is me that is crying. I am crying because I want to know her, I am crying because I will never know her. I am crying because I am afraid of what might happen should I set her free. I am also afraid of what might happen if I do not. I really should leave. I do not leave.
Brom, The Muse
1.
It was getting late at night, even by his own standards. He was a night owl, that much was certain, sometimes going weeks in a row without proper sleep. Tonight was no different, he just sat there gazing at the endless stars flying by between checking and rechecking the navigation panels. They were on course, he noded satisfactorily for the hundredth time. He could really use some sleep now, there was no point in lingering here any longer. But somehow the thought of being stuffed in a sleeping pod in the common room of the mess hall wasn't his idea of fun; it made him uneasy. It wasn't just the cramped space that made it difficult to even breathe. Anyone curious enough could stick his face to the transparent lid and see him drool all over his pillow. Who was he kidding? The whole thing was like a glass coffin. And he wasn't fucking Snowhite! No. Here he had control of the whole damn ship!
Two firm hands suddenly clamping at his shoulders made him jump on his seat. Startled for a second, he immediately realised who was standing behind him. He didn't need to turn around and look at her. Her smell was already clouding the navigation room, clouding his judgement like lethal gas.
- Well, what's keeping you up so late, Commander? He said in a merry tone.
Instead of an answer her hands pressed against the sides of his neck and firmly, but gently, she began rubbing his shoulderplates. After a hard day of sedentary work, a backrub was the next best thing, but he found with dismay, he couldn't enjoy it. Anxiety gripped him, his pulse raced and an unpleasant knot began forming in his throat.
- Do they teach that in military school? His lame attempt at a joke went largely unnoticed. It was obvious that this wasn't just professional interest. Her lack of response alone was intimidating. His nerves tensed even more.
- Relax, Joker. Her voice became a command that immediately registered in his brain. He closed his eyes and leaned back, not surrendering completely but still savoring her skillful touch. It was comforting in the most human way. It had been too long a time since anyone had done anything similar to him. He felt satisfied and grateful.
- Thank you, Commander. I appreciate it.
Again there was a lack of reply that triggered a silent alarm in his mind. Was he really experiencing this or had he simply dozed off in his chair without even realising it? Because if that wasn't the case, perhaps now it was a good time to start thinking about all the repercussions his current position encompassed.
But her fingers trailing up his spine somehow deterred him from doing so. He shivered. Her fingertips tickled his skin, dug in his hair and the instant his baseball cap toppled to the floor without much sound, he knew this had gone too far. Her hands embraced the top of his head, massaging his skull, fingers cradling his brow. Whatever headache the stress of the situation had caused him, he couldn't feel it.
He thought he should ask her by now what she was doing, if only for pride's shake but what he really wanted to ask her was if she was sure of what she was doing. He asked neither.
Slowly her hands descended to the sides of his face, her thumbs brushing on his stubble ever so lightly. Her fingers once again played him, as they tickled his face, his chin and beneath it. One fingertip gently brushed the bottom, then the upper part of his lips and sought access in his mouth.
That really did it. Whatever coil was pressing inside his gut up until now, sprang loose. Electricity surged up his backbone and spread through arms and legs, spiralling ever downward. It was too much.
Without thought, he caught that finger between his lips and kissed it, then sweetly sucked the rest within, his tongue rolling around soft skin. He felt a slight tug of her hand and that inflamed him. No, he was already speeding down a highway with no brakes, there was no escape. He reached for her hand in a firm grasp and decided he should taste another of her smooth, little, trigger-happy fingers. And another one. One by one and as much as he could all together. Sated by their fine wine, he pushed his lips against her palm in a deep kiss. Moisture clung to his face, but it didn't matter.
She leaned ever forward. He felt her free hand go downward from his neck to caress his chest for a while, then it drifted towards his belly. She was so close now, having to bend over his chair to reach him. Her breath came out heavy and coated his ear again and again but it was impossible to feel any more aroused than he was now. It came as a surprise to him how he hadn't snapped out of control. But this was a time for feeling not thinking.
He reached his hand to caress her neck, brush his fingers through her short hair, feel the characteristics of her face.
As a punishment for this audacious behavior from his part, the biting came. He felt her lips, her teeth digging at the flesh of his ear.
The pain! How much pain had he felt over the years as he heard every bone in his legs snapping in a rhythmic tune whenever possible and usually at the most awkward times. And how much pain had he felt whenever he realised he couldn't follow them in things so usual and mundane, those he might have known or acknowledged. And eventually they shunned him. Not out of spite or anything, this was inevitable. He was a cripple after all. And there was pity a lot back at those days. But this woman didn't pity him at all. He understood this. She wanted to torture him. To kill him and his chair and his crutches and everything he believed and fought so hard to gain, with her sweet torture. This pain was so much different. And how he wanted to participate!
He didn't stop caressing her, though. His touch turned harsher, wilder, possessive. He didn't mean to. He needed to give her something of what she inflicted on him, as a slight protest.
She bit harder on his ear. Blood came out but she was quick to lick it, quick to comfort the small wound and quick to trace her tongue to his earlobe. The warmth of her mouth burned him.
They made no sound. They weren't allowed to make any sound.
He had been gulping down one moan after the other all along. It was his shock at first, then the embarrassment but now it was fear of getting caught. They were in too far.
Her mouth scorched rough marks on the skin of his neck, like a burning cigarette. He wanted to bring her close, to give her a taste of his own medicine, but it seemed impossible!
He would scream to her, scream to let him consume her, but something compelled him to stay composed.
Her hand ripped through the buttons of his jumpsuit as easily as she had ripped through his defenses. She was indeed a formidable adversary.
But as she reached to relieve him of his agony, of his waiting, something pulled inside him.
- No! He mumbled in a choked tone, disbelieving himself.
Grabbing her arm that he held all along, he forced her to abandon her hiding place behind his chair and stand to face him. She resisted and she was strong but his will and his arm (from all those years of walking around on crutches) was stronger.
He felt sheer joy seeing her stand above him with her rigid stature. Her face was stiff and grim like any other day, but inside her eyes he saw a bruised pride. He had won this round, for now but he knew he wouldn't get a word out of her mouth.
He looked at her. Was she really that same woman that barked orders at him through the comm? Was she really that same woman who'd just given him a piece of her personal paradise back there?
-Won't you talk to me? What's wrong? He tried desperately not to beg.
She wouldn't answer him. She saved all her pretty words for Alenko. He felt such a jerk!
He pulled her close. Her eyes were overflowing pools of blue.
-What's this, some kind of game? He said angrily. Got nothing to play with and thought you'd blow off some steam with the cripple kid? Make him feel welcome to the Normandy? What, Kaidan turned you down?
He stopped himself, but it was too late. Her eyes froze as steel.
- You idiot! She exhumed.
He let her hit him. A knuckle punch square on the jaw, its force enough to turn your head the other side and make it spin around. Blood trickled from his lip. He didn't bother to wipe it. He deserved this. The profanity of his mocking words now rung on his ears. He had been dearly afraid that all this was a lie, a cruel joke on his part. But there was no excuse. How did he let those things escape his mouth? He was no better than all the others who ever made fun of him. He fed this. How blind had he been...how foolish. He had gone and destroyed the most precious little moments of his whole damned life!
- Forgive me, I...he stuttered.
Her kiss shut him up for good. It was forceful, penetrating, hungry, absolute.
He gave it back with all his might, tried to pull her ever close.
That's when she rode him.
- Careful...easy...he whispered, afraid that his legs would once again steal the show.
Her body was in his hands now, they travelled all over her with a thrill.
- What would you want me to do? What do you want me to do to you? He pleaded with enthusiasm. He couldn't keep his voice down. He was talking too much, as always and he knew it.
Decisively, he pulled her top up taking in the pleasure of her naked breasts with hand and mouth. She pressed him close. His other hand was free to explore and quickly it snaked through her pants. The vibe he got from between her legs hit him even harder than her previous punch. He absolutely had to savor it. Almost tearing her jumpsuit apart, he lifted her with both arms towards his mouth. The taste was precious, unparalleled.
Normally he would have thought this over, he would have conjured up a plan before the act, thinking of every little detail that he would do. But it was impossible with this woman. He simply had to give her all that he got and whatever came naturally to him at the heat of the moment. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing.
But whatever it was, it seemed to break her. She had been quiet all along but now her desperate moans filled the navigation room. Anyone passing outside would definitely hear. He wanted to tell her to keep it down, tell her that it was too risky, that they would have to find another spot eventually, but would there be another time or another place? Besides, he would kill for that music that now overwhelmed his senses. He said nothing.
It was not long before she came to sit on him. But time didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now. He knew he couldn't do much in this chair. In fact he couldn't do much at all. But that didn't matter either. He let her jump him to her heart's content, as much as he hadn't let any woman jump him before. But this time there was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hold him back. He simply enjoyed it, the view of her on top of him galloping like a wild amazon treading to war, the pleasure they both got from it, the pleasure his hands got from her body, the pleasure his ears took from her screams, the pleasure of feeling her nails carve the skin of his shoulders as she jumped him. This was heaven!
And then, with a ferocious kiss that barely ate him alive, they reached that peak, untreaded for so very long. She endured it with a silent scream inside his mouth, a scream that would spell disaster on both of them should it had come out unrestrained. And he was there to hold her.
Slowly they became still. She nested her head under his chin for just a second but before he could embrace her, he lifted her head and looked up at him. All that she ever felt was there, radiating from inside her eyes. He gave her back that look, as best he could. Was it possible then that she felt for him what he felt for her all along? But the true extent of his emotions was never clear to him, up until now.
She came to her feet and hastily fixed her dishevelled uniform.
- What? Where are you going? He whispered, exhausted. He grabbed her arm again but he already knew she had to leave.
- Don't go! He pleaded breathlessly but it was in vain. She turned her back to leave.
-Shepard! Halting, she looked back at him.
- Just tell me, why me?
He was never one to ask such things but there she got it.
-I can't control this, Jeff. Can you?
He couldn't. He simply wanted her with all his heart.
Quietly, as she had come, she slipped out of the room.
Tomorrow morning, she would be his Commander again. It's just that now she was so much more than that.