John Shepard stepped into the Normandy's cargo hold. He had a lot on his mind to process. He wasn't sure how he could deal with Liara's flirtations, the return of the Reapers, and the stress that came with his newfound position as Spectre. His brain was as foggy as an elcor's.
"Wrex," he said, walking up to his old friend.
The krogan nodded. "Shepard."
Shepard stared deeply into Wrex's eyes before looking away, sighing dramatically, and then turning back to face him.
"Wrex," he said.
The krogan gnashed his teeth together and moved closer until they were almost touching.
"Shepard," Wrex said, his voice somehow soft despite the roughness.
Shepard's legs felt like they were made of a hanar, he could barely focus, rendering all images of Liara void in his mind. He sighed again, looked away from Wrex, and turned back to him, his eyes so intense they were almost bulging out of his eye sockets.
"Wrex," he almost moaned.
Wrex had never felt this way in his life. He was used to the feeling of war, though he knew humans didn't think war was an emotion, and it usually overtook most of his thoughts until it was the only thing he could feel; the only thing he wanted to feel. Now it had dissipated, it was barely an afterthought in the back of his mind, and now only one thing remained.
"Shepard," the krogan said, his heart in his throat.
Shepard felt the smooth roughness—or was it the rough smoothness?—of Wrex's scaly hide. The raw carnality of it almost made him leap into the air with pleasure. No asari could bring this level of hotness out in him, and he was almost panting over the feeling.
"Wrex," he said, but it wasn't really a simple 'said' anymore; no, this was a deep, moaning sigh.
The krogan reveled in the pleasure of the human touch. It was something he hadn't been used to, something he didn't want to get used to. He was afraid of the touch, especially after the Genophage had rendered him useless. Now, that carnal longing was back, aching deep in the base of his throat, and he wanted there to be more than that simple touch between him and this beautiful human male.
"Shepard?" he asked, desperately trying to hold back the feelings that were roaring at him to escape and to do what he so badly wanted to this intoxicating man.
The krogan was not alone in his feeling.
Shepard was not thinking as simply as Wrex. His mind had completely deviated from the usual daydreams of Liara T'Soni, and now this creature, whom he'd admired for his handsome brutality, had left the blue doctor more than a figment of his imagination, something (or someone) long forgotten. With Wrex, it was different, oh it was different. His scaly, dinosaur-like forehead, his tiny, intoxicating crimson eyes, his brutish grin—all it did was draw something out of John Shepard that had been hiding inside him for a long time. For that longest time, he hadn't wanted it to escape.
Now all he wanted was for the beast to be unleashed, and as he looked away from Wrex, sighed, and looked back at him, he knew what he must do.
"Wrex," he said.
Shepard.