Bioware owns all. Thanks for reading. Still a work in progress; more to come.

Commander Kathryn Shepard sat curled up asleep on the leather sofa in her quarters with her data pad in her lap. Her head rested at an awkward angle on the arm of the couch. She wore a tasteful, classic, and simple black skirt and white blouse with one modest button undone at the top. Her black heels had been discarded. One shoe was half under the sofa with its heel sticking out. The other one had slid under the end table when she had kicked them off. The commander hadn't worn a skirt in years. The last occasion was probably a few years ago for one of those boring, mandatory commendation ceremonies that she hated to attend. But ever since she had slept with the Illusive Man one week ago, skirts were now a regular part of her wardrobe after they had suddenly started showing up in her Cerberus owned closet. The Illusive Man did enjoy his little games.

It was late. Shepard had intended to change and go to bed but there was just one more schematic that she wanted to review. An hour later, she had drifted off into a dreamless sleep on the sofa. She woke up two hours after that to the spicy-sweet scent of cigarette smoke and the sight of TIM doing what he did best at the other end of her couch: smoking one of his expensive cigarettes and sipping leisurely on a glass of scotch.

Shepard gave him an accusatory look. "I know you have an extensive vocabulary but somehow the word 'privacy' doesn't appear to be a part of it," she snapped irritably.

"Ah, Shepard," he cooed sweetly, "given our performance from last week, I had rather hoped you might be glad to see me."

"Don't flatter yourself," she countered, standing up to stretch. Inadvertently, she pushed one shoe completely under the sofa. She bent down on her hands and knees to retrieve it, feeling around until her fingers grasped the heel.

"You'd better not me staring at my ass," she told TIM as she stood up and turned around to face him. He was standing directly in front of her when she turned.

"Of course not, Kathryn. I was too busy thinking about how delicious you'd look wearing those shoes and nothing else. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against his body. "But if you want to bend over again, I'd be only too happy to look." He moved his hands down to the part of her anatomy that they were discussing and squeezed.

"Are we on a first name basis?," she asked, not missing a beat. Giving him a firm push, she disentangled herself from his embrace. "You have me at a decided disadvantage. You know my first name but I don't know yours."

"Any special reason you need to know? Feeling the urge to murmur my name in the throes of passion?"

Shepard snorted. "That was a one time deal," she said, backing away from him. "And you didn't answer my question."

He took a step toward her. "My name is incidental. I do so enjoy these little cat and mouse games we play, Kathryn. Still not willing to admit that what you really want is to be caught?"

"All right then. Yes, I'm sexually attracted to you. Yes, I enjoyed our time together. But that doesn't mean that we can continue this. This—this is crazy. There are hundreds of reasons why this is completely and utterly wrong."

"You underestimate yourself. You are a smart, beautiful, independent and strong willed woman who, I have no doubt, can keep what we do in the bedroom separate from our professional relationship. We both agree this isn't about love. It's about sex. Mind blowingly good sex," he reminded her pointedly. "I didn't intend to visit you again. I thought that if I had you once—and got it out of my system that I'd be satisfied—but I find myself in the unfortunate position of wanting you all over again. So here I am. I assure you that when the morning comes, we can go back to arguing over your idealistic altruism and my calculated at-whatever-the-cost mentality. I respect you too much to think that a few multiple orgasms will change who you are. But let's agree that we still want each other. And we both know the best way to remedy that."

Shepard shook her head at him. "You're an articulate man; I'll give you that. You know how to make a convincing argument. But we have a very important mission on the table. You're the head of a terrorist organization that I abhor. But aside from that, even you have to agree that stopping the Collectors and defeating the Reapers is far more important than screwing one another's brains out! You're awfully cavalier for someone who understands the seriousness of the situation that we're in."

"I agree that the mission is priority. You agree that the mission is priority. We are not emotionally attached to one another. Nothing like a little euphoria to clear your head and get the blood pumping. I'd rather know that your sexual needs are being met than worrying about you being frustrated and unsatisfied, Shepard. Your well-being is extremely important to me."

"You are so completely full of shit. You do realize that pretending that you're here for my well being is laughable?"

"Maybe. But I'll say whatever I have to if it means getting you into that bed."

"Now we're getting somewhere. At least you admit it."

"It's as laughable, I suppose, as you being so reluctant to admit that what really bothers you—aside from the murky morals of sleeping with someone you don't care for—a new experience for you, I know. What really keeps you up at night though, Kathryn, is that you can't reconcile yourself to the fact that you like to relinquish a little control in the bedroom, that you like being led, that it turns you on-"

"I don't—"

"Come here," he commanded. His gaze was intensely focused on her eyes.

She didn't move.

"Rest assured," TIM told her, "I know that your leniency doesn't extend outside of the bedroom. I have no doubt that you're still going to fight me tooth and nail when we're back to business and you feel that I'm compromising your morals with something that I want you to do. That won't change. We'll still fight. You'll still think that I'm a cruel, selfish, arrogant son-of-a-bitch. It's probably true. And you'll still be a force to be reckoned with. That is empirically true. But in here, you can let go, Shepard. Give into instinct, need, and desire. This is neutral territory. You can have it all."

"You sound like you're negotiating a treaty."

"I'll negotiate anything you want if you'll stop being so stubborn and come here." They were only an arm's length apart. She was close enough that he could feel her heat. All it would take were two steps and they would be nearly touching.

"I promise I'll make it worth your while," he coaxed warmly.

Damn him. She wanted to. Don't do it. Don't do it. She chanted it in her head like a mantra.

Her feet made two even steps and she stood in front of him. They were practically nose to nose. She expected him to grab her and kiss her; she expected aggressive, need-filled contact. But he surprised her.

He didn't touch her right away. She felt a rush of disappointment. The self-admission that she had wanted him to touch her so badly startled her. She hated him for being right about what she needed and wanted. He didn't know her. Who did he think he was? She was about to tell him to go to hell when he slid his arms around her waist and turned her around.

"You shouldn't sleep like that. You're going to have a massive knot in that graceful neck." He brought his hands to her shoulders and kneaded them through the thin fabric of her blouse. He used his fingertips and then his whole hand, alternating the movements. He rubbed and stroked, pressing into the spots where he felt the most tension. His thumb hit a particularly sensitive spot and she gave a little gasp. He followed it up with a gentle caress, dragging his entire hand across the taut juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," she sighed.

"Consider it a temporary truce," he said, bringing his mouth toward her ear. His breath was warm on her neck and his lips barely grazed her skin when he spoke. "Don't expect me to be so conciliatory the rest of the evening."