Disclaimer: These ladies don't belong to me.
Caress You Into Darkness And Paradise
They'd started fucking after she'd cut ties with Cerberus. The first time (Jack had said as she pulled on her combat boots) was "a reward for making the right fucking decision for once" in her life. The second time, Miranda retaliated by stopping on her way out and telling Jack that, "there's your reward for growing up and getting over being a goddamn victim."
Every time after that there were no excuses and no reasons, barely even an exchange of words, just mindless fucking. They'd stopped when Shepard turned herself into the Alliance. Miranda went on the run from Cerberus. And, Jack went and became a respectable person.
When the universe decided to go to hell, Jack was the last person Miranda expected to find on the Citadel. But, she had: at Purgatory. Fitting, really, if Miranda had believed in fate. Blue eyes tracked the carefree movements of the tattooed body next to Shepard's graceless form. The pull was immediate and unmistakable. Miranda hadn't touched anyone in months; no one since Jack.
That night she found out Jack hadn't fucked anyone either. The newly minted Alliance officer was too morally upright to touch her students; and the staff bored her to the point of disinterest. Miranda staunched the pleased feeling that rose at the news. It was the first time they shared a bed to sleep; they had nowhere else to go.
Neither woman would ever admit to the fact, but they communicated more from that moment forward.
They found each other on Earth. Several klicks behind Shepard's position. Holding the rear guard. Injured. Nearing the point of exhaustion that would surely mean death.
"Rodriguez," Jack's bark was tinged with fear, but her aim unerring as she felled the oncoming enemy, "if you're going to get their attention, you better be ready to fu…tear 'em up." The restraint in language was amusing. But, Miranda only noticed the fierce protectiveness Jack bestowed on her students. It made her slightly jealous.
Waiting for the next volley of enemies, the scholar and the fugitive huddled close. "She likes you," Miranda had her eyes closed, head laid back against a broken wall, and her voice sounded brittle even to her own ears. She was too tired to care.
The long silence stretched until blue eyes cracked open. Jack's furrowed brow made Miranda pause. Brown eyes swung to blue, "Yeah, well. I am pretty damn hot."
Miranda's lips turned up. "Did you ever consider it?"
"No." There was no hesitation. Jack clutched her knees tighter and looked up at the burning sky. "I could never abuse my authority, or their trust, like that." The last was said on a whisper.
The words felt like some sort of confession; a revelation of part of Jack's soul. The moment felt intimate. Miranda trembled; she pushed away the emotion. Instead, she pulled Jack into a dilapidated store front. The building was barely standing but it afforded them a small measure of privacy.
Miranda pushed Jack roughly against the closed door. They had experienced desperation before; in some way, all their interactions were desperate fucks. But, the desperation that gripped them in that moment was morphing into something too closely related to need. Miranda pushed it aside and ignored it. She pounced on Jack. Their mouths were rough in their haste to taste the other. Teeth crashed, noses bumped, hands tore through clothing in practiced ease. Hard, fast and desperate they could do; there was nothing terrifying in that.
A quick flick of a wrist had Jack's fly open, giving Miranda just enough room to shove her hand between the fabric and a pulsing sex. The ground shook; the ceiling groaned and showered them in dust. The Reapers had landed. Miranda bit Jack's bottom lip and thrust two fingers into her. The surprised gasp wasn't even audible over the distant thunder of Reaper lasers cutting through the atmosphere.
Jack's thigh slammed into Miranda's core. Sharp teeth bit down on soft flesh at the unexpected move. The coppery taste of blood filled Miranda's mouth as pain bloomed into pleasure. Releasing the damaged lip, Miranda plunged her tongue back into Jack's mouth. They moved in adrenaline induced rhythm, reaching desperately for a release that they needed. They came. But, the ache, the need, remained.
They clung to each other as the world shook. And, they waited together for Shepard to decide the fate of the galaxy.
In the aftermath, with the shouts of victory still reverberating through the broken streets, Miranda slipped away. She had to find her sister.
Several days later found Miranda and Oriana in the outskirts of London in a building that had seen better days but was still sturdy enough to hold several dozen people. The introductions were simple and straightforward, no obfuscation. Jack didn't even bat an eye, she smiled and teased and was quite comfortable interacting with the young Lawson. Miranda didn't understand the uncomfortable feeling the idea that Jack was closer to Oriana's age than her own made her feel.
"We're going to be staying for a while, aren't we?" The question was more statement of fact. The young woman sat haphazardly on the cot assigned her.
Miranda turned to her sister. Oriana was looking at her like she could see right through her. It was unnerving. "The blast temporarily short-circuited most electronic equipment." It wasn't an answer.
Oriana rolled her eyes and smiled knowingly. "But," her hands gesticulated, and Miranda kept quiet, "if we could, we wouldn't leave." Not a question.
"No," Miranda answered anyway. She excused herself when Jack beckoned her.
Jealousy was not an emotion Miranda enjoyed. But, it burned through her when she watched how tenderly Jack handled an injured Kahlee Sanders.
"Is there anything you can do?" Jack's voice was tight as if holding back tears. Miranda wondered how the woman could cry for others but not herself.
"She's not mortally wounded," her voice was clinical, "her recovery will just take time." The question burned through her before she could stop it. "Were you two…involved?" Miranda bit her tongue, mortified. It didn't matter. They'd never discussed exclusivity; they'd never discussed anything. Jack didn't belong to her.
"Hardly," Jack's brown eyes turned to Miranda's alight with amusement and curiosity. "She's old enough to be my mother." Jack's voice caressed the word imother /iwhile her fingers gently pushed back Sanders hair from her face.
Miranda's jealousy vanished as guilt took its place. Sanders was not old enough to be her mother; Jack suddenly seemed so young. "I can make her more comfortable," her voice was soft.
"Thank you." Jack's hand covered Miranda's momentarily in gratitude. The uncomfortable ache was back in her chest.
The weeks and months following the Fall of the Reapers, saw an unprecedented cooperation between all sentient species in the galaxy. The galactic economy stabilized; the mass relays were repaired; every species took a pilgrimage to their home planet, to appreciate their origins. Peace reigned.
In all that time, Miranda stayed on Earth. Rebuilding. Staying close to Jack. They fucked. And, slept together. And, ate together. And, shared history together.
It was an unremarkable moment when the realization dawned on Miranda. She wondered how she had missed all the details, all the moments, leading up to the epiphany. How had she missed the easy familiarity they shared? Miranda didn't find trusting people easy. And, to the best of her knowledge, neither did Jack.
Propped against the open classroom door, blue eyes watched Jack interact with a few students that had stayed behind after class. The former convict turned professor was demanding, strict, and crude in her delivery but she was always gentle with her students. Miranda saw the fierce protectiveness in Jack's eyes. It was always present when it came to her students.
A picture of Jack tending children of her own popped into Miranda's mind. It made her ache and tremble with want.
"Miranda," Jack had long ago stopped calling her anything beside her given name. Her voice was warm, her smile easy.
It warmed Miranda everywhere. It made her happy. She shook her head at herself. This was terrible and beautiful. She smiled. "Jack."
"Where are you taking me?" They meandered along the sloping hills behind the temporary Grissom Academy to the small house they'd taken as temporary quarters.
"Home," the word hung between them, comfortable and pleasant, "I cooked." The distance between them decreased; their arms touched each time they swung with the movement of walking. Miranda's hand itched to hold Jack's hand.
"Is Oriana home?" The sun was descending over the western horizon. The twilight was soft.
"No, she took a weekend trip to the beach." Miranda finally took Jack's hand in her own. Jack looked down questioningly but didn't remove her hand. Miranda's heart was racing, pounding loudly in her ears.
They walked home hand in hand in the light of a setting sun.
Dinner was like several they'd shared over the course of their time together. But, to Miranda it had all shifted, emotion making every interaction momentous and new.
After dinner, they'd fucked. And it was good, just like it always was. But, Miranda felt empty and unsatisfied. Blue eyes looked at a tattooed back turned from her. She sighed disappointed in herself.
Jack turned her eyes hidden in the darkness surrounding them. "You all right?"
The question, asked so sincerely, broke something in Miranda. She propped herself up on an elbow and reached out to gently trace Jack's face. Her fingers touched and memorized every slope and contour. Her heart shook in her chest; it felt like it was going to burst out and reveal itself openly. She wanted so much to express everything that she felt for Jack with her touch. But, she didn't know how.
Sex for Miranda had always been pleasurable and passionate. But, it had always been fucking. No matter the tempo, it had never touched her any further than physical. There was never any feeling or emotion attached to it. Miranda wanted it, needed it, to be different with Jack. Her heart demanded it. But she was unlearned in lovemaking.
So, she tentatively cupped Jack's face in her hand and lowered herself slowly to caress full lips. Miranda kissed Jack with all the emotion bottled up for in her heart. Slowly, thoroughly, gently she expressed how she felt with mouth and hands. Her lips trailed down Jack's neck kissing and sucking but not marking; Miranda didn't want to possess Jack, she wanted to worship her.
Fingers caressed the body below hers with all the feeling she could no longer contain. Miranda's mouth latched onto one of Jack's breasts. Her tongue flicked the taut nipple before enveloping it in her mouth and sucking. Jack arched into her, her fingers bunching in Miranda's hair.
Miranda smiled. The ache inside her was persistent and insistent but it didn't feel empty anymore. She moved to Jack's neglected breast; her fingers gently cupping the one her mouth had left. Jack's thighs opened to Miranda's remaining hand.
Deft fingers moved through copious wetness. Miranda was gentle, her fingers mapping Jack's slit like they had mapped her face. Jack's hips bucked against her. Heart beating wildly in her chest, Miranda lowered herself between Jack's legs. And, she poured herself into pleasing the woman her heart insisted she loved.
Miranda consumed Jack; and was consumed by her. She kissed the length of Jack's core, her tongue plunging into a soft channel before latching onto a pulsing, erect clit. Miranda moved back and forth languorously, delighting in releasing the tempest of emotion inside her and bestowing it on Jack.
She sucked and licked and loved until Jack's hands tightened in her hair and the small body arched and stilled below her. Miranda gently lapped and Jack until the aftershocks of her orgasm receded. She moved slowly up the tattooed body, the taste and smell of Jack all over her. Her heart felt full. She was satisfied.
Silent tears tracked down Jack's cheeks. They glistened in the darkness. Miranda marveled at this woman who'd had so much sadness in her life but only cried for the happiness. She kissed the tears away. And for the first time, Miranda took Jack in her arms and held her. Protectively. Tenderly. Lovingly.
They woke in a tangle of naked limbs, pressed heart to heart. The kiss that followed was gentle, full of need and emotion.
It was great and terrible and like being born anew.
Love was terrifying and wonderful.