Ever since he'd first called her Siha, Shepard got butterflies every time she thought about it. Every time she saw him and every time he spoke. This nagging flutter came each and every moment, rendering her into nothing but a babbling fool. Her normal smooth and suave nature with words - if anyone asked her opinion on the matter - immediately faded. As if she was a schoolgirl with a crush.
Thane never commented on it, never indicated how it made him feel. But the small smiles, the stolen glances. Shepard had not overlooked them and she knew he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the fact that the great Commander Shepard was putty in his hands. Those rough, wonderful hands of his.
Shepard shivered, drawing Thane's gaze her way. He smiled, shifting closer to her on the couch.
"Are you cold, Siha?" he asked. If she was, the warmth of his voice alone would solve such a problem.
"I, uh," she fumbled. "I suppose I am."
He leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around her.
"Making it hard to talk?" he teased, his breath a wisp against her ear.
Shepard shivered again, resisting the urge to agree to quickly. Correct as he was. Though it was certainly not any sort of chill making words difficult.
As his hands brushed over bare skin, he arched his brows at her. His features then fell into a tiny smirk. Thane breathed against the outer shell of her ear, delighting at the sight of seeing her shiver.
"Quite clever, Shia," he breathed.
Shepard squirmed, but the pleasure that resonated from his touch, from his breath, began to feed her desires rather than the butterflies.