Summary: Garrus/Victus. He wasn't even aware he had fallen until it was too late. Mini-fill for masskink.
.-oOo-.
The first time it had been one colleague asking another. Menae was a stressful time and both of them were a hairbreadth away from throwing their guns to the wind and hoping for the best. Garrus saw how the General fought to hold onto any semblance of control of their situation. He had seen it before when met with an enemy too large to imagine being able to beat.
On a rare calm night he knocked on the door to the General's prefab. There had been hints of interest before, flirty remarks in the heat of battle. A seemingly mutual way of how they tended to be drawn together when no one was trying to shoot their heads off. The appreciation for the others' mind and opinions.
So when the older man opened his door, only wearing his sleeping pants, Garrus didn't waste valuable seconds on asking questions.
"Vakarian." Victus blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?"
Garrus stepped over the threshold without permission, forcing the man back, intruding on his personal space. Grabbing the cream marked head in both hands and harshly pulling him in for a kiss. Adrien froze, hesitant and perhaps shocked by his bold maneuvers.
"What are..." he gasped when he was released.
"Shut up," Garrus murmured, his low tones thrumming with desire. Stepping forward, going in for a second kiss he made the other man back into the opposite wall in the small space. Quickly unsnapping the chest-plates of his armor, he pressed a clothed torso tight against the paler, naked one, holding him there as his hands snaked down to Adrien's waist, squeezing, caressing.
The older man purred and opened his lips, snaking out a tongue, his hands searching to quickly dispose of his unannounced guest's attire.
That night they had learned secrets only lovers share in heated passion. The naked truth unfolded in the easy and unburdened, no-strings-attached, way they made their bodies come together. By the morning Garrus knew that the General liked to get his fringe gently scratched as you bit down hard on his shoulder. How harsh fingers would tease out his manhood as opposed to careful ones. The way of how he bent his back, as a hoarse voice ardently sang out his pleasure, was forever burned into the younger turian's retina.
It had done them both some good, sharing their bed-space that night. With their heads clear, the reapers had a harder time than usual. But the second time to twine their vibrating voices together didn't present itself until they both found themselves on-board the Normandy.
After weeks and months of constant looming danger, the calm that was found aboard the ship had the now Primarch visit him at the batteries that first night. This time it was slower, they had time to really explore what their bodies could do together. And Garrus found himself on his back in the small cot, wave after intense wave rolling through him as the older man moved within him. Their breaths mingling, increasing in speed, until the fast, rhythmic scraping of metal frame against floor was the only thing that could be heard over thrumming whirlwinds of deep sub-vocals.
It wasn't the last time the small cot had to stand up to two heavy turian men rolling around in it either, and it wasn't alone in getting to feel the punishment of their play. Adrien's bed had to suffer a similar fate. As did a shelf in a closet after a particularly adrenaline inducing mission. One night they even dared a quick and quiet rut in the war room, with the Primarch propped up on one of the consoles while the Reaper Advisor pounded into him, doing his best to keep the noises that wanted to spring forth in check.
It was hard to not come to care for the man, and when he left the Normandy to join the Hierarchy's fleet, Garrus had to press his feelings down deep into the back of his mind. His friend had a duty to attend to, as did he, and it didn't matter that this might be the last time he saw him. The following months he tried to keep in contact with the man who had come to mean more to him than a simple rumble in the bed. The feelings had come, uninvited, sneaking up on him over time and he didn't realize what they were before it was too late to say or fix anything.
The former Detective could tell his Commander, and best friend, there was something wrong with him. But Shepard didn't say anything and Garrus really didn't feel like talking about it.
In the end the battle for Earth happened and Shepard disappeared into the sea of million upon millions of people who was found missing in action. He was left stranded on his Commander's home planet until they could get the relays back up and running. So he helped out with the restoration that was going on all around him, sending thoughts out to the sky now and then, wishing, hoping, wondering what had happened to that one turian with cream colored markings that had, unbeknownst to him, stolen his heart.
"Have you heard?" Garrus overheard two humans talking one day, countless months after the deciding battle. "The turian Primarch is on Earth."
"What?" The other said. "What is he doing here? Shouldn't he be on Palaven?"
With his heart caught in his throat he ran all the way to the nearest military facility. There he demanded to know where the leader of his people was and the quickest way get to him.
It wasn't until he sat securely on the shuttle that he realized it didn't have to be his Primarch. There was every chance that Victus had been killed and replaced. Please, please, please, make it not so, he begged in the privacy of his mind.
When the aircraft landed it was easy to find where the turian leader was. The commotion of people, civilians, reporters and military personnel alike, buzzed around one specific place. A place Garrus forced his way towards, elbowing people that were all asking the same thing: Why was the important turian here?
Finally he made his way to the front of the crowd and his heart made a loop of happiness, for there he was. His turian with the cream colored markings. He just barely managed to hold in an impulse to throw himself at the man when their eyes met and he saw that same spark of longing twinkle back at him.
"Vakarian." To hear his name in that hoarse voice again almost made his knees go weak. "Glad to see you're okay."
Victus reached out a hand towards him, his sub-vocals flat and polite. Garrus took the hand and the warmth from the palm spread through his entire body.
"You too, sir," he said, holding his eyes, watching how the tension played between them.
It wasn't until several hours later that the important man could get away from nosy reporters and babbling politicians. He had sent Garrus ahead, very discreetly, to the hotel where he stayed. A luxurious place the younger turian almost couldn't believe existed in the midst of all the tragedy and destruction around them.
He heard the door open and went to see who it was and was tackled to the floor by a heavy body, strong limbs pressing him close as a familiar mouth pushed up against his lips.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Adrien mumbled between heated kisses as his hands roved over the well built body beneath him, husky lower tones singing in a dissonance of relief, agony, desire and... was that love? Did he dare hope it was?
"Thank the Spirits that you're alive," Garrus answered, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He didn't hold anything back, thrumming out his feelings for the older man. He hadn't had time to say it before and he wouldn't take any chances of not doing it now.
The vibration in Adrien's chest intensified and he started to tear into Garrus' clothes, fingers a flurry of need and nerves. The younger man wasn't late to join him, over taken with relief to finally have him in his arms, he just wanted to feel his skin pressed against skin.
Clothes were thrown into corners, tongues playing together, teeth nipping at lips and mandibles and necks, hands tugging and stroking whatever they could find. The heat was undeniable as both turians finally got their pants off. There was no waiting, no careful preparation and neither of them wanted any. Adrien found the opening just by the base of Garrus' shaft and pushed in. Both men cried out in pleasure, in need for more.
Strong fingers landed on Garrus' hips and the Primarch started to move, working his way deeper and deeper with each thrust. While the scales on his back ground on the floor he gripped his lover close, desperate to feel all of him, holding him tight and never wanting to let him go. Lips found lips again and for a while they both were lost to the rhythm of Adrien's hips, finely attuned to every grunt and moan and keen and whispered word of praise.
They didn't look for something slow and delicate. Too eternally grateful to have found each other again, they raced together up the cliff until they reached the end. Holding hands, fingers tightly entwined, they jumped off the edge together, crying out in pleasure as they fell.
When the world had stopped flying past them and enough oxygen had found it's way back into their lungs, Adrien rested his forehead against Garrus'. The younger turian pressed back in the genuinely affectionate gesture and met those warm pools of love that poured down into him.
"Do you want to come back to Palaven with me?" Adrien whispered in the limited space between their faces while his thumb stroked the gray cheek.
Garrus didn't even have to think about it and the word slipped out on its own.
"Yes."