He comes to her while the rest of the crew is sleeping. He knows she will be awake.
She sits, brows knit, poring over data, feet propped up.
They both know anger and loss. Too much to total up. But they haven't lost each other. Not yet.
Chime as the door opens. The figure silhouetted is 7' and unmistakable. He is narrow hips, broad shoulders. His voice is a rumble of thunder in the darkness. Visor a blue beacon.
She stirs, brightening at his appearance. Her cybernetic implants glow red. Eyes two intelligent laser points in the dark.
No small talk is needed. They've danced this dance before. It begins slowly as he sinks down next to her. A hand around her nape as she logs the last of her data.
She turns to him, mouth rising to meet his. She trembles. He relaxes. Both are soothed.
Moments tick by, regulation N7 fatigues hit the floor followed by delicate lace. Turian clothing pile atop human clothing.
His body is a wealth of stories. Hits and near misses. Scars. Scars that echo her own. Gunshots, omniblades, and overloaded weapons. Old scars beneath new ones.
He is oh so careful of the edge of his talons. Sharp to humans but unnoticeable to others.
She whispers affection as she straddles his thighs, aching flesh rubbing together but not joined. Not yet.
His hands encircle her waist, feel her ribs. Cup her breasts. Edges of talons gently rake her bruised flesh.
He watches between them as her hands stroke him. His head tips back for a moment. Lost to sensation.
He wants to lay her back and taste her but knows there will be time enough later. She knows what she wants and pursues it.
As she settles him inside her she moans. She is wet and tighter than he remembers. This is what he has been longing for. Face buried against her neck he moans and mouths her pulse.
He doesn't entirely fit inside her, but what does fit more than fills her. She begins to rock her hips back and forth. Bright orgasmic tension begins to build. She is lost to it. Garrus loves watching this. Seeing her succumb.
Hair unbound like a dark curtain. Tan skin glowing in the blue lights. Each swing of her hips closing her eyes and parting her lips.
His hand holds the nape of her neck, supports her as she arches. Other hand clasps her waist pulling her harder and faster.
She cries out. Body spasms. She orgasms in a gush of hot fluid. It soaks him. Arouses him further.
"Come on, baby" he purrs.
It brings her back. She hears his desperation in it and continues her rhythm. She puts her palms behind her on his knees, spreads her legs wider to let him watch. His eyes drink her in.
She feels how close he is. When he releases, it's magnificent. He feels as though reality itself shifts for a moment. Then he is back in his own head, his own body feeling hers still wrapped around him.
In his passion he has dug red furrows into the skin of her hips. He apologizes but she murmurs a dismissal. If it felt good, don't apologize.
She is a spent mess, hair in tangles and tiny points of blood standing out where he held her too tight. Lips swollen, lambent eyes drowsy. She moves to disentangle from him but he pulls her tight. Head resting against his chest. Breathing. Calming fractionally.
In a moment they will have to clean up. She will have to return to her datapad and he will have to return to the weapons bench in the main battery. In a moment. Not yet.