Warning(s): Triggering chapters. Graphic (and violent) depictions of alien-human fornication. Instances of femslash and dubcon. Read at the peril of your sanity.

Chapter 1

Shepard rummaged through the articles of clothing strewn about the floor, tossing aside a pair of sheer panties that didn't belong to her and muttering a curse as the pounding in her head grew stronger by the second. Droplets of water dripped from her short black hair as it clung to the nape of her neck, having been left to air dry after she finished stumbling around in the shower and failed to locate a clean towel. Brushing her damp side bangs from her face, she finally found her left boot hiding under a skintight shimmery leotard that still smelled of perfume and sweat.

She gripped the edge of the nearby dresser to steady herself as she slipped the boot on and made a halfhearted attempt to tie the laces with one hand. A ray of artificial sunlight streamed through a tear in the closed shutters and assaulted her sensitive retinas when she made the mistake of facing the direction of the large window. Groaning, she gave up on making her footwear–or her entire appearance, really–presentable and dragged herself toward the front door. Her usual grace and balance had fled in the wake of her hangover, and she tripped unceremoniously on a pair of high heels that she had been trying to step over.

The noise roused movement from the bed at the far side of the room. Shepard straightened from where she'd caught herself on the kitchen bar and glanced back to see the sleepy but satisfied faces of the two women she'd taken home the previous night. The asari was one of the most coveted strippers of Chora's Den and the blonde human was a highly popular bartender from Flux. Both smiled at her brightly as they rubbed their eyes, and damned if Shepard couldn't recall either of their names.

"Uh… I have an unexpected meeting to get to, but please make yourselves at home and don't wait up," Shepard told them, maintaining her poker face even as her head threatened to split open.

"A meeting? Why don't you skip it so we can continue where we left off last night?" the asari cooed, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to bestow the commander with a generous view of her large breasts.

Shepard's deep blue eyes drifted hungrily to the bait, but she didn't bite. "As enticing as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't this time. But I'll call you." Even though I'm not exactly sure which one you are in my list of asari contacts.

"What about me?" the blonde piped up with a flirty pout.

"Don't worry, I won't forget about you," Shepard said with what she hoped looked like a laidback grin.

Leaving the women behind, she stepped outside her apartment and shielded her vision from the unyielding brightness of the fluorescent lights. A few of her neighbors passed by and chuckled, very much used to seeing the commander's bedraggled state after an evening of wanton pursuits. Others shook their heads in disapproval as she trudged past them, unappreciative of her frequent contributions to the negative image of the 633 Block.

The hum of chatter did nothing for her headache, and she forced herself to return a few greetings from some friendly acquaintances while following the aroma of brewing coffee through the corridors. It led her to a small café on the way to the shuttle bay. The turian barista saw her coming and had her cappuccino ready by the time she slumped on her elbows over the counter.

"Rough night?" he asked genially.

"No. Fantastic night, rough morning," she grumbled as she gazed down at the steaming cup. "Could I trouble you to turn this into a frappuccino? That way it can double as an icepack for my head."

"No problem, Commander," the barista replied with a laugh.

The frozen beverage was pressed against her temple during the half hour ride to the Presidium. As she stepped off the shuttle, she brought the straw to her mouth and took several unenthusiastic sips, hoping her stomach didn't decide to regurgitate the liquid in the middle of the meeting. That would go over well.

To those who didn't know her or had never served on a mission with her, Commander Shepard's presence in the Alliance Navy was a galactic mystery. Her representation of the military was less than flattering, as she often strutted around in attire similar to today's mess: casual clothes that were wrinkled and slightly musty, unlaced combat boots that threatened to send her sprawling face first into the pavement, and hair that was still dripping wet and soaking into her collar. She had received a remarkable number of disciplinary citations throughout her career, mostly for running her mouth at superior officers. She had also been known to find the prospect of being court-martialed or dishonorably discharged amusing.

To those who did know her, Commander Shepard had justified her rank and position dozens of times over in the line of fire.

She continued her stroll through the Presidium, earning a few attentive gazes on her way. A tall, muscular woman of Eurasian heritage, she stood out among the human populace of the Citadel through her confident posture and enthralling sapphire eyes. Her strong build, small chest size, and short hair sometimes gave her a male appearance from certain angles, but her face was undeniably feminine. Her stride was unhurried, almost leisurely, and some would say her devil-may-care attitude was fairly impressive. Especially considering that she was heading straight toward the Citadel Tower.

Still drinking her frappuccino, she waved to one of her past endeavors, a beautiful asari diplomat who had schooled her in erotic flexibility during the one time Shepard had been able to lure her into her bed. The diplomat shot her a peeved look and turned away quickly. That was fine. She could play the discreet game. Shepard still had a log of her recent suggestive messages and knew it was only a matter of time before she showed up at her front door again.

Whether it was due to the caffeine or the walk through open air, Shepard could feel the pressure in her skull ease up a bit. And the individual who emerged from the entrance to the Tower instantly uplifted her mood.

"Nihlus," she called out, a genuine smile spreading over her face. "I didn't know you were back on the Citadel."

Bright green eyes locked with hers, and the turian's mandibles twitched in what she had come to recognize as amusement when he took in her disheveled hair and clothing. "I just arrived about an hour ago. What brings you to the Tower looking like that?"

She came to a stop in front of him and shrugged. "I received a request for a meeting. At five in the morning. While I had two gorgeous women sleeping next to me. So you can imagine the reason for my lack of effort."

Nihlus' brow ridge rose in surprise. "Two?"

She laughed and said, "Yeah. You know me with the ladies. This was bound to happen eventually."

He was staring at her intently, his expression masked beneath his white markings. "Did that night with me put you off men forever?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Her lips parted as she blinked up at him. Images of raw passion and wild lovemaking from a few months back came rushing to the forefront of her mind, bringing with them a heat that crept over her face, among other areas. It was a few moments before she sputtered, "What? No, of course not."

"But you've rejected my advances since then," he stated.

"Well… you know my preferences lean a little more toward females," she told him hesitantly, bringing the straw back to her mouth and glancing at everything but him.

An uncomfortable silence hung over them until the elevator door behind Nihlus slid open and a group of diplomats chatting amongst themselves stepped out.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time."

"Agreed."

"Also, you should probably zip up your pants."

And just like that, the tension between them was gone. Her good humor returning, she reached down to close her fly. "You caught me. I'm hoping to piss off Councilor Sparatus enough to deter him from calling on me again while I'm off duty."

"Ah. I should have known he was the responsible party," Nihlus chuckled. He stepped aside so she could catch the elevator before it was summoned back to the top. "Shepard," he added when she moved to operate the panel. "Meet me at the Dark Star Lounge in Zakera Ward tonight around eight. We have some catching up to do."

The insinuation in those last words was not lost on her. She felt her pulse quicken even as she sent him a casual grin. "See you then."

Once the door closed, her grin disappeared and she brought the beverage up to cool her face.

It had been about three weeks since the last time they had seen each other, and the struggle to bring their friendship back down to the platonic level was becoming more difficult. She took sole responsibility for that, having finally given herself to him during a state of heavy intoxication after months of his expressed interest. The experience had been incredible, especially since she didn't bed males of any species very often, but there was a specific reason she had been reluctant to pursue the liaison.

And as the elevator reached the floor containing the turian councilor's office, that very reason looked up from the datapads on his desk to pin her with a venomous glower. She left the elevator and passed through his open doorway, paying no heed to the smirking guards stationed on either side. Her irritation was evident in the way she sauntered into the office, looking very unprofessional as she continued to drink her melting frappuccino.

Councilor Sparatus looked suitably infuriated. "Shepard!" he barked. "You're late! And what is the meaning of your appearance?"

"Councilor, I'd like to remind you that I'm on shore leave. You called me in the early hours of the morning while I was… preoccupied," she declared in annoyance. "You're lucky I even showered before coming here. Now please tell me what I can do for you."

Sparatus' left eye twitched as he pushed a button on his terminal that closed the automated door behind her. She stiffened at the sound of the lock clicking into place. He held her gaze as he rose to his feet, picking up a datapad from the pile he had been working on.

"I called you here to ensure you hadn't forgotten our agreement," he said. "Now that a certain Spectre has returned."

Shepard bristled. "Nihlus and I haven't had relations of that nature since my slip-up."

"Yes." He frowned as he drew closer to her. "Instead, I can smell your relations with half the women on the Citadel."

She snorted. Surely that was an exaggeration. She may have lost count, but she wasn't that lascivious. And some of them didn't even sleep with her.

Sparatus refrained from commenting further and held out the datapad, staying silent as she cautiously took it and read the contents. Brow furrowing, she said, "I don't understand. I thought you had been trailing those slavers for nearly a year. You're telling me your team completely lost track of them?"

"It's unfortunate, but yes," he replied shortly.

A surge of anger shot through her, and she shoved the datapad back at him. She should have known. Although he had initially convinced her that working with him to find the batarian slavers that had attacked Mindoir would bring faster results than relying on the Alliance, his investment in the search was minimal at best. And considering what she had to go through to guarantee his continued assistance, it hadn't been worth it.

"Well, then I guess our deal's off, isn't it? Thank God, now I won't have to deal with your ugly mug as often—"

His hand shot out to seize her arm tightly, the talons digging into her flesh. "Not so fast, Shepard," he hissed, sharp eyes boring into hers. "There is another matter to discuss."

She grunted as his claw-like appendages pierced through skin. "Discuss away, then." Prick.

He released her and tossed the datapad back onto the desk. "The Council has chosen you as a candidate for the Spectres," he announced and watched for her reaction.

Rubbing her arm, she scowled. "What? Why?" she demanded.

He paused for a few seconds, gazing at her in calculation. "You will have to ask the other councilors because I oppose it. Your species isn't ready for this type of undertaking, and won't be until your next evolutional stage," he ground out in a scornful tone.

It took all her willpower to keep from rolling her eyes. "Well, why are you the one telling me?" she asked instead. "I mean, if they wanted me to find out from the most disgruntled council member, then I suppose I see why, but—"

"Because it ties in to our agreement," Sparatus snapped. "For your mentor, the asari councilor nominated Nihlus Kryik. The salarian councilor is undecided. I nominated Saren Arterius."

Shepard's jaw clenched. Her multiple clashes with the anti-human Spectre were common knowledge throughout the Citadel. "I already see where this is going," she muttered. "Forget the whole thing. I'm not interested in becoming a Spectre."

"Ah, but apparently your Captain Anderson is elated and is expecting you to step up for humanity and such. How disappointed would he be if his upcoming XO refuses the honor on the spot?" Sparatus' mandibles flared in a malicious turian smile.

She suddenly felt like flinging her frappuccino straight at his head. Captain Anderson was one of the few people she had utmost respect for, and if this was something he wanted for her, she couldn't let him down. It was aggravating how easily Councilor Sparatus could use that to his advantage. There was no comprehensible reason for him to stretch out their arrangement this far. She couldn't begin to guess his motivation, other than maybe some perverse delight in tormenting her. Out of all the humans in the galaxy, it had to be her.

"So assuming that you accept the Spectre candidacy, my… request is simple," Sparatus began. "Continue with the terms of our agreement and I will not sway Councilor Valern to my choice for your mentor—"

He was interrupted by the sound of loud, obnoxious slurping as Shepard drank the last of her beverage through the straw, feigning boredom. His temper finally snapped. With an outraged growl, he charged her and swatted the cup out of her hand while closing a grip around her throat. She barely batted an eyelash at his aggression. The dark blue pools of her irises stared up at him fearlessly, drowning his impulse to kill her and replacing it with a very different type of desire. Out of everything he hated about her, he loathed her beautiful eyes the most.

"If you're so keen on using that mouth to suck on something, then get down on your knees," he snarled, wrapping his free arm around her to crush her to him. Underneath the smell of coffee, soap, and the lingering essences of her most recent partners, he caught the floral quality of her unique scent. It enveloped him and stirred his loins even as her defiant expression persisted.

"Fuck you. I'm finished playing your depraved game." The words tumbled from her full lips, which he immediately bent forward to nip at with his sharp teeth. She made a small sound and tried to put some distance between them, but his hold on her kept her in place. She felt his talons on the small of her back, poised to impale her spine if she kept trying to retreat from him.

"If you allow Kryik to touch you again," he murmured harshly against her lips, tasting the metallic hint of her blood, "I will make sure his Spectre status is in jeopardy. And should you 'slip-up' one more time with him or any other male…" His left hand snaked down from her throat to trace three raised scars across her ribs beneath her fitted shirt. "I will ravage you in ways that no amount of medi-gel or mental therapy can heal."

She tore her head away and cursed her traitorous nether region when it responded to his hardness slipping free of its sheath and grinding against her through their clothing. "Even if I accept the candidacy, our deal is over. Make all the threats you want."

He grabbed a fistful of her damp hair and yanked it viciously. "I don't believe you want that as your final answer."

"For someone who despises humans as much as you do, you sure like fucking one an awful lot."

"Only you, Shepard."

And then he was all over her, backing her up against the wall and tearing her shirt open, unmindful of the slashes his talons raked into her, while dragging his rough tongue up her neck. Her breath came in shallow pants, eyes focused on the ceiling as her body betrayed her through its burgeoning arousal. He made short work of her sports bra by shredding it to pieces and was about to concentrate his attention on the soft mounds of flesh humans called breasts, but he drew back at the sight of the numerous red bruises dotting the expanse of her chest. At his hesitation, she glanced down at her torso.

"They're hickeys. Love bites." Her challenging smirk provoked something primal within him. "Others have staked their claim on me."

He growled gutturally, threateningly, and dragged her from the wall to throw her onto the sofa next to his desk. Her untied boots dropped to the floor and she tried to roll away, but he pounced on her and sank his teeth into her shoulder as instinctual possessiveness blinded him with rage. He hadn't been this violent with her ever since his discovery that she'd slept with Nihlus, and she wondered briefly if it was jealousy rather than the sadistic need to control her that incited his reactions. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come, almost laughing despite herself at the ludicrous idea.

She winced when his jaws released her, leaving deep, bloody punctures that would eventually join her collection of scars. He pinned her arms over her head with one hand when she attempted a punch made clumsy by her returning headache. With his knee he forced her legs apart and effortlessly ripped through the front of her pants and underwear. To her credit, she hadn't uttered a peep as he stripped and assaulted her, but when he shoved one talon into her roughly, she yelled out in pain.

"I should amend the terms and forbid you from engaging in your lustful trysts altogether," Sparatus rasped, turned on even further by the way she arched her back, biting her lip in a tortured expression. There was something exceedingly arousing about forcing the great Commander Shepard to submit to him. She, known widely not as a seductress but as a seducer, who tempted other women with her charm and androgyny, now writhed helplessly beneath him as he moved his talon in and out of her wet tightness. It became too much for him.

"Ow!" she gasped when he abruptly withdrew his talon and nicked her entrance. "Bastard!"

He smacked her across the face hard enough so that she saw stars, and he quickly removed his own clothing while she was disoriented. The entire length of his member was engorged and ready, and as he climbed back on top of her, he was pleased to see that she had run out of energy to put up any more resistance.

It didn't hinder her ability to hurl insults, though. "Bring it, then, Sparatus. I survived Mindoir and Akuze. I can certainly survive one more session with some mediocre turian cock," she spat. "Just know that I've had enough of being your political plaything."

He ran his fingers almost tenderly through her hair as he purred, "Then pray that you can one day escape me, Belladonna. Until then, mine will be the only cock that enters your body."

Without further warning, he plunged into her with one cruel thrust, burying himself deep enough to hurt her, and loving the sound of the cry that ripped from her throat.