He can't pinpoint the exact moment, that one dot in their timeline where things changed from not-quite friendship to something-more-than friendship. If he could think at the moment, if she wasn't scraping her nails against his neck in such a light tease, then maybe he'd be able to stop and think about it. But he can't because he's afraid if he does ask to stop, to slow down, she'll end this all, and maybe that would be for the best. His cock is hard and out of its sheath, already pulsing with the need to mate. And he doesn't want this to end because he needs this, and he feels like the shittiest thing in the world.
Because he knows how much it's taking her just to be here, just to hold him, because he's seen her looks, however accidentally. It's that same look Kaiden and Liara had given her, except they were less subtle because pretty much the entire crew knew about their interest before they'd hit Ilos. But she was Commander Jane Shepard and for whatever reasons, she had refuted both advances diplomatically and as friendly as possible. He thought it had been because she didn't want to be distracted, but being in the turian military had taught Garrus that pent-up frustration was worse than an ill-chosen affair. So then he'd thought it was a human thing, not having casual sex, but he knew that wasn't true the moment he'd thought it; every species had prostitutes.
So then he'd thought that maybe she didn't find either of them attractive, which was weird, granted, but also gave him an odd sense of happiness he did not want to pursue at that moment. So he distracted himself by looking up what humans did find attractive, merely for curiousity's sake, he'd told himself. What he'd found had him slightly disgusted and really unaroused; because even though they resembled asari, the blue skinned aliens had a higher metabolism and denser muscle structure, making their hanging bits less wobbly. Humans seemed to jiggle everywhere; their bottoms, their breasts, some of the fattier parts of their body, and Garrus had no clue why some aliens had a fetish for them.
Now, though, as he's grazing his talons over her back, she's reaching down and lightly grazes his waist. Her other hand, however, grasps his cock, and he doesn't know how long he can stand it, but knows he needs to pace himself or this will suck more. And he doesn't want it to suck, because she's his best friend and the first time he'd thought of Shepard in correlation with those videos, he'd happened to look over when she'd acrobatically thrown herself over a crate to avoid enemy fire, crouching down and grinning at him. He'd gotten such a hard on that he'd actually winced at the sudden pressure.
He'd avoided people after that, for a time, confused and angry at his reaction, hating the sub-conscious way he'd evaluate his actions as his father would. And even though he tried not to care and hated that he did, he knew that an attraction would be met with disgust and maybe even an expulsion from the clan. Markut Vakarian was a hard leader, traditional and stubborn, but he could be diplomatic and manipulative when he needed to be, so he was kept on through the grumbles of the younger generation. And no matter how much Garrus tried to tell himself and everyone around him that he didn't care, he knew that was a blatant lie, and that his father's disapproval had forced him out of so many things.
Like every day since she'd left, Garrus remembers that moment on the Citadel docks with Jane, looking out over the reconstruction, and planning out a future he'd want, but also one that could include her. He says something stupid, referencing an old "Spaghetti Western" she'd demanded they watch one night, getting the human sayings wrong as usual. She laughs at his mistake and corrects him, then just stares at him for a moment, both bemused and a little sad, and he doesn't want to study the implications of that familiar look and so he shrugs it off with another little quip. But as he walks away he wonders about the look and would hate it if he disappointed her, and hates that he can't stay on the Normandy, but knows that if he did he wouldn't be able to stop loving her.
She dies, and his world shattered.
She's touching his fringe and his world shatters again. Now, as then, he doesn't know how to pick up the pieces, and so just goes with it. She smells amazing and he needs her right now and he knows he's being rough but he can't help that because he's a turian and if he was any gentler he'd have to admit what this is and can't do that. For a moment, staring down at her kneeling form, taking in the curve of her spine, the dimples above her ass, he's speechless at how beautiful she actually is, knowing the rebuilt skin hides so many scars and experiences from the world. He's on the bed now, scratching her back with his talons, grasping her shoulders and holding there, his cock pressing against her opening, and she's so wet and hot but he needs to know that she wants this, needs to know that this won't change anything even though he's a coward for wanting that.
"Jane," he growls and is embarrassed at how low his voice is, "Jane, tell me we can do this." She shudders underneath him and he barely notices her nod, just a mild sway of her long hair. "Yes, Garrus, we can do this." And it kills him when he hears that hitch in her voice, wants to take it away but knows he has no right, so he opts to go with it, yet again. She's so hot around him, so tight and wet and moving, and he's never experienced anything like it before. Pulling out, he can't help the masculine smirk that blooms when she whines and tries to keep him inside, but he holds her steady, then is pushing into her again, his cock pulsing and growing, waiting for the hard plates of a turian cunt to press down and stop him. But nothing happens, she just keeps moving around him and it's so good. "Spirits, you're so wet. So fucking wet and so tight." His talons are cutting into her shoulders, and he thinks he should loosen his grip, but he's afraid he'll lose his rhythm, and he doesn't want to leave her unsatisfied because she seems to really like the rhythm. Looking down at her, he notices the way her ass jiggles every time he pushes into her, the play of flexing muscles under her skin as she rocks with his thrusts, can just barely see the sway of her breasts, hard nipples peaked. And even though he should be disgusted, he's so turned on because it's Jane Shepard, his best friend and the one person he's pretty sure is in love with him and is pretty sure he's in love with.
His talons have cut into her skin now, but she doesn't seem to notice, but he has. The smell of blood, sweat, and cum is strong and potent and he can't hold back even if he wanted to. Leaning down, he traces his hands down to her hips and holds them there, leaning his upper body on hers, as much as his anatomy would allow anyway. Licking at her wounds, he finds the side of her neck, her face pressed into the bed covers, and bites down hard. Her blood is sweet and tingling, but nothing too bad, and he keeps pushing into her. She's got one hand between her legs now, and every so often soft fingers graze against his hot cock, and it's almost too much. He's pushing hard now, and when she comes, all the tension drags out of her, pooling into her cunt, squeezing his cock, and he thinks with no small amount of humor that it feels like she's ordering him to come. Garrus feels like being a good turian, so he does, and it feels so good as she screams her release, his deeper roar joining a moment later.
He pulls out of her, spent and thankful, collapsing onto the bed at her side. He doesn't hear her move, so turns to ask if she's up for another round, stops when he sees what he's done and curses. She can't do anything, he knows; they've been friends long enough that she knows he needs to self-recriminate before he can get over something and he knows that she'll patiently wait until he's done until she offers comfort. While he's in the bathroom, he stares at himself in the mirror and tries so fucking hard to tell himself to go in there and make it right. Say the words they both need to make this better, but given the circumstances might only make it worse. So he steps by the bed again and Jane's not looking at him, which is fine because he couldn't stand it if she could see what he does to himself, to them. When he's finished cleaning her up and applying the blue gel, he steps away and looks for his clothes, wonders idly that maybe this isn't the best way to leave it, doesn't know if he can offer up anything of value to a best friend willingly breaking her heart so he can keep his mind.
He walks back, though, not quite sure what to do. When she rolls over, he hopes that his heart-ache isn't as obvious as hers, hopes she doesn't recognize the tight, drawn-in mandibles for what it is. Offering her what he can, he leans down and touches his forehead to hers, hoping she knows what this means, knows she probably does because she'd watched the vids, hopes that she doesn't realize how significant it is for him.
"Thank you, Jane," he whispers, embarrassed when his mandibles flutter along her nose, pulling back. He smiles to hide his nervousness. "Clear enough to do calibrations now?" she asks, and even though it's humorous, he sees that look behind her smile, that same one she'd had on the Citadel all those years ago, the same one Kaiden and Liara hid so badly, and he hopes that they can go back to what they were. He chuckles, and it's deeper than usual, but he lets that slide. "Nah, my crazy ass boss just exhausted me." And he hopes that's enough to get them back on track, commander and officer, employer and employee. "Think I'll turn in," he adds, and he turns to leave, half-hoping she'll ask him to stay so he can either start something amazing or end this right now before anyone gets anymore hurt. She just lays there and he feels like he needs to do something to get the dynamic back, and that day comes flooding back. "We'll have to find cows," he says, only realizing after how odd that might sound when she stares at him perplexed and a little worried. So he clarifies, embarrassed, "To be cowboys." He grins and she grins back, letting herself fall to the bed with a yawn.
He's taking the elevator down, his forehead resting against the cool metal, hating himself for wanting everything to stay the same, even as he pushed for more.
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Thank you for the favourites, super sweet! This was floating around in my head when I wrote Shepard's perspective, but didn't know if I could pull it off. Please let me know how I did! Thanks to Sensoo, who described drell in her fic "A Matter of Perspective" as a male version of the asari, and that got me thinking that asari might have the same sort of muscle structure as a drell.