AN-This chapter contains teh secks. KROGAN sex. If you're into that sort of thing. :)

Shepard had evidently made it her quest to find the single seediest bar on the Citadel for their little outing. Her reasoning was that, if a bar fight broke out, the repairs would be cheaper to pay for. It made a twisted kind of sense, really, and Wrex hoped they had a chance to test out that theory at some point. It had been awhile since he'd had the opportunity to pummel someone with his bare fists, and that sort of thing was good for relieving stress.

There were other things that were good for stress as well, but he was studiously not thinking of those. Nuh uh, not even with Shepard in a tight tank top and a pair of blue pants that she called "jeans". They hugged her hips and flared out over her ankles, giving her a curvier shape that called out to be touched. Damn, here he was waxing poetic again. He'd definitely had too much to drink.

"I've got an idea," she announced, staggering a little as she stood up from her chair to address her crew. "We need to play a drinking game, like right now."

"Cardinal Puff?" Joker suggested, but she shook her head.

"No, too complicated."

"Beer pong?"

"We don't have the equipment."

Garrus scratched the side of his head in thought. "Ever played Bomb the Pyjack?" he asked.

"No," said Shepard, but Wrex laughed and clapped the turian on the back hard enough to make his beer slosh all over the table.

"I think I'm starting to like you, Garrus," he said. "You're going to need a helmet if you want to play, though."

"These plates are harder than they look," Garrus said, knocking his knuckles against his forehead.

Shepard was intrigued now. "Hang on, I'll go get one." She disappeared in the direction of the bar, and Kaidan shook his head.

"You guys are insane," he said.

"What? Not into drinking games?" Wrex asked. He was trying to like the young lieutenant despite his obvious (and failing) affection for Shepard. It was getting harder to deny his own feelings for her—she was like a force of nature, and even in her compassionate moments exhibited a strength that made him sit up and take notice.

"Not ones that involve protective headgear."

Shepard reappeared with a half-helmet she'd scrounged from someplace and a huge grin on her tipsy face. "Okay! Now, tell me how to play." She pulled the helmet on, her short red hair sticking out haphazardly.

"I learned this from a krogan I ran into a few years ago," Garrus explained. He stood up with his drink and they grasped each other's forearms. "All you have to do is headbutt me without spilling your drink. If you spill, you lose and have to do two shots. On the count of three, say 'bomb the pyjack' and hit me hard. Got it?"

"Got it. One, two, three—"

"Bomb the pyjack!" they yelled, reared back, and bashed their heads together. Even with the added advantage of the helmet, Garrus had a thick skull and hitting him was like ramming her head into a wall. She staggered, but didn't spill her drink. Garrus, on the other hand, was already four shots further along than she was and a drop spilled out to roll down his arm. He groaned and took two shots.

"I think that's it for me, commander."

"Wuss." Garrus just shrugged and ordered a beer. "Wrex? You're the only other one here who doesn't need a helmet."

"I have a helmet," Tali slurred sullenly.

"Yeah, but it might crack or something and then you'd die, and that would really suck."

"Good point."

Wrex stood up and they stood a few feet away from the table, their forearms linked. Shepard was utterly serious, except for the small crinkles at the corners of her eyes. "Ready? One, two, three—"

"Bomb the pyjack!" they shouted and there was a loud crack when their heads collided. Wrex had hardly felt a thing, and Shepard reeled a bit, but they both managed to keep their drinks from spilling. She cheered and bucked the shot with a flourish.

"Again!" she said, pouring another shot apiece.

Ten rounds later, they were surrounded by a small crowd of people who were all placing bets, mostly on Wrex. What they couldn't see was how glassy his eyes were getting, or how much weight he was putting on Shepard's arm. On the eleventh round, Shepard reared back and crashed into him so hard the impact cracked her helmet and sent Wrex tumbling to the ground, yanking her down after him. She landed on top of him and he rolled back and forth like an overturned turtle, which sent her into paroxysms of glee.

"Laugh it up, commander," he growled.

"It's just . . . you're all 'I've fallen and I can't get up!'" she said before collapsing into giggles again. "We totally cleaned up by the way, everyone was betting on you."

"Maybe you can buy me some dignity with your winnings."

Right then, as the crowd dispersed around them, she realized that she was lying on top of him, and that it wasn't at all an unwelcome view. Her grin softened into a smile and he found himself wishing they were alone so he could find out if her neck was really as soft as it looked.

"You, ah, want to get out of here?" she asked nervously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You're gonna have to get off me first." She stood and helped him up, the both of them thoroughly sloshed. Shepard waved to the remaining members of the crew (Liara and Ashley had given up long ago and headed back to the ship) and she and Wrex slipped out the side door into the alleyway.

"Have someplace in mind, Shepard?" he asked, and wondered if it would be offensive to suggest a hotel room. The combination of liquor, a little physical exertion, and her proximity was making his armor suddenly feel too restrictive.

"Wrex, I . . ." She hesitated and jammed her hands into her pockets. He'd never seen her so unsure of herself. "I'm not really sure how to say this."

He stepped in front of her, and although they'd been closer before the air between them felt full of static as the fine hairs on her arms raised and prickled under his scrutiny. She was struck suddenly by how huge he was; he'd always made it a point to stand back when he faced her to keep her from having to crane her neck up at him, but he was a full head taller than she was. His red eyes, usually calm off the battlefield, raked over her body and she could almost feel the heat on her skin.

"So don't say it," he said. His arms hung at his sides, waiting, patient, and she followed the lines of banded muscle sheathed in black up his bicep where they disappeared under his armor. She wanted more than anything in that moment to find out what he looked like out of that hard red shell. She reached out tentatively and laid her palm flat against his chest, feeling the thrumming pulse and deep vibrations of his basso profundo as he made a low rumble of encouragement. She stepped closer and pressed herself against him, his armor strangely warm through her clothes, and his hand rested lightly on her hip. The pulse in his neck jumped, giving him away as she leaned in closer, taking in the scent of him along his jawline—metal, dry scales, and something indefinable that reminded her of the deserts back home . . . sand and sagebrush. Her hair stirred with his every breath, faster and more shallow than usual, and his clawed fingers wrapped around her waist.

Of course, that was the moment Kaidan chose to come after her, and stumbled on the two of them in that very compromising position up against the alley wall. He took one look at them and his eyes went dark.

"Shepard," he said through gritted teeth. "If I'd known you were into lizards, I wouldn't have bothered."

Wrex growled at him and started to move away, but Shepard stopped him. "No, you're fine right where you are. Kaidan, I suggest that if you don't want to walk back to the Normandy with a black eye, you should go away."

"Yeah, sure, whatever Shepard. But, really? A krogan?"

"What makes you think that it's any of your business?" she asked, and she felt Wrex reach down to where her sidearm was holstered to her thigh, which had the dual effect of showing her that he was willing to shoot Kaidan for impertinence and made her even more aware that he was still touching her. She covered his hand with hers and shook her head.

"I didn't mean—it's not my business, ma'am," he said, his spine going rigid. He snapped off a salute (and Shepard thought she had never seen a salute look so sarcastic before), and headed back into the bar. She sighed as soon as he was gone and glanced up at Wrex with a long-suffering expression on her face.

"Sorry about that. He's been really obvious about his attraction lately, and I've been trying to turn him down without hurting his feelings."

"Guess subtlety's not his strong suit."

She laughed and tilted her head back against the wall. "No, guess not. Although I think we made it pretty obvious just now."

The moment officially ruined, they started back to the ship. Wrex wasn't much for hand-holding, but he stayed close enough to her that their arms brushed against each other as they walked through the darkened, quiet streets. She hardly ever got to see the Citadel like this, and it was a welcome change of pace from the harried atmosphere that permeated the station during the simulated daylight hours.

As they passed through the airlock and boarded the Normandy once more, he pulled her close again and she stumbled a bit, instinctively grabbing his chest plate. He ran a lock of her hair across his knuckles, his other hand a warm weight against her lower back. "Maybe, when we've got a little more time . . ."

"Yeah, maybe." She rose up on her tip toes and, with both hands on his shoulders, kissed the corner of his mouth. "'Night, Wrex," she whispered in his ear before leaving him there in the corridor, smiling bemusedly in spite of himself.

Shepard sat in her cabin just staring at the wall. How had things gone so wrong so fast? Sure, they'd scored a hit on Saren and found the Mu relay. Sure, they were one step closer to bringing him down and stopping Sovereign, but at what cost? Ashley was dead, and she was having a hard time believing that it wasn't at least partially her fault. She'd rescued Kaidan because they needed someone guarding the nuke, and there was no way to get them both. Ashley had a sister, a family. Someone was going to have to write the letter of condolence, and much as she didn't want to do it, she didn't trust the job to anyone else.

The Council still wasn't listening, but then the Reapers would have to sit on their heads and sing show tunes before they'd recognize the threat. Dealing with them felt more and more like trying to tunnel to China by beating her head against the ground, and having Joker hang up on them had been the most rewarding part of the conversation. She'd ordered him to fly to the Mu relay, and they would be arriving in the heart of the storm in about six hours or so.

To top it all off, Wrex hadn't spoken to her since they returned to the Normandy except to grunt noncommittally at her. Not that she was in the mood for much in the way of conversation, but still. The problem was that she had no idea where to start to make it better. Hey, I know that your people have been searching for a cure for the genophage for about 1,500 years, but you forgive me for blowing it to shit, right? After all her talk about saving the rachni, the claim that Saren's krogan were no better than slaves seemed pretty thin. He'd actually drawn down on her, for crying out loud, and she found herself faced with having to decide whether or not to shoot him. It had been a tense moment, but in the end he'd put away his gun first and told her again that he trusted her. She hoped it was worth it; she just wasn't sure anymore.

Losing Ashley was just the most personal loss, soon there would be rivers of blood to wade through as the Reapers harvested all organic life. The weight of trillions of people had settled on her shoulders, and she knew that she couldn't do this alone. Tali, Liara, Kaidan, and Garrus were all firmly in her corner and ready to give their all for the fight that was coming, but she needed Wrex. She needed him perhaps more than anyone, had come to rely on him more than she knew; there had to be some way to salvage this. With a heavy sigh and a quick mental pep talk, she headed down to the cargo bay.

He was alone in the expansive room, sitting on the floor, cleaning his shotgun. She walked slowly, making no attempts to mask her footfalls, and sat down across from him. He was only a few feet away, but it felt like they were separated by a widening gulf she had no idea how to cross.

"Wrex," she said, and she was amazed by how steady her voice was.

His hands froze for a split second before resuming their work. "Shepard."

"Wrex, I am so sorry."

He looked up at her then, his brow furrowed. "No, Shepard. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I let my emotions get in the way of what needed to be done. That base had to be destroyed, and . . . and I . . ." He brought his fist down hard on his leg, and she jumped. "Damn it, I pointed a gun at you! I actually thought about shooting you to save a bunch of brainwashed slaves!" He lowered his head, his hands clenched into fists. "I was blind, stupid, and I let you down."

The idea that he was avoiding her because he was angry with himself, not her, hadn't crossed her mind. Without giving herself time to second guess her intentions, she rolled up the scattered parts of his gun in the cloth they sat on and moved it aside, then knelt in front of him. He turned his face up to hers and for once he'd let down his defenses and she could see the sorrow there; the pain he carried for his people who had been so wronged, the conflict that raged within him over whether or not he was doing the right thing as a krogan and a clan leader. She slid her arms around him, into the warm space between his neck and his hump, and hugged him. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in a ragged exhale and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Here, right now, was something she'd known but hadn't really understood—somewhere along the line, Wrex had gone from being a good friend and crewmate, someone to fight beside and maybe fool around with, to something more. She hadn't planned for this, to go hurtling into the most dangerous mission of her entire career with so much to lose. She clung to him, the words she wanted to say crowding around her throat and leaving room for none of them-Please, you have to make it through this, I don't know what I'll do if I lose you now because, even though part of me is screaming that I'm crazy for even thinking about this, I think I want to be with you. All that and more made its way into the almost desperate hold on him, and although she couldn't say any of it out loud, he thought he understood anyway.

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him with a soft moan as if to say, Finally. His clawed fingers, gloved and armored, crept up under her shirt and ran across the sloped planes of her back. She started releasing the seals of his armor, stacking each section next to them in a neat pile and peeling back the undersuit that clung to him like a second skin. She raised her arms and he pulled her shirt up over her head, watching as her hair lifted and fell in red waves over her bared shoulders. It wasn't until the chilly air hit her skin that she remembered where they were and that someone could walk in on them at any moment.

"Not here," she said as he leaned in and licked from her collarbone to the underside of her jaw, and her skin puckered into gooseflesh as she shivered.

"Where?"

"The Mako."

He met her eyes with a lopsided grin. "Really?"

"The backseats are big enough, and I don't want to wait for the elevator." She released the last catch on his chest plate and lifted it off, revealing the thick muscles banding his chest and stomach. The scalloped scales there looked uniform until a closer inspection showed that they started off lighter in the middle of his chest and changed gradually into a deep blood red as they spread out. Shepard lowered her head to those scales and kissed them lightly, earning a rumbling groan that vibrated throughout her entire body.

"We'll be at Ilos by the time that thing—mmph—makes it up to your cabin," he said, breathing faster now as she nipped at his shoulder, chasing the pain with her tongue and sucking at his skin. He had to shift a little as his hardening cock pressed against his codpiece.

"How much time do we have, anyway?"

"About four hours."

"That's probably the best sentence that's ever been said, Wrex." He nodded in agreement and grabbed her thighs as he stood up and carried her over to the tank. She reached back to open the door and threw her head back as he nuzzled her breast through the thin fabric of her bra. She unhooked the offending garment and tossed it into the darkened interior, then she climbed inside and fairly dragged him in after her and slammed the door shut.

It was nearly pitch black inside except for the ambient glow of the standby lights on the dash, and all she could see was a vague outline of his hulking body as he took off the rest of his armor. She watched, mesmerized, as he shimmied his undersuit down to reveal—

"Oh, sweet Jesus," she breathed. He followed her gaze and chuckled.

"Never seen a quad before?"

"Well, that and . . ." She reached out and encircled his cock, stroking the smoother skin there slowly to get an idea of what he was working with. He was longer than the average human by a few inches, and as thick as her wrist. Not totally out of the question, but big enough that he would take some getting used to. She squeezed him and he let out a moan so low-pitched that it tickled her eardrums and made the muscles in her stomach quiver in anticipation. He had her move up onto the long bench seat and spread her knees apart so he could settle himself between her legs. He licked and nipped down her body, paying special attention to any spots that made her shudder and moan until she was thrumming with need. His tongue ran up along her inner thigh and paused just before reaching her wet and open lips. She shifted her hips, trying to make him go that last inch, but he held her steady.

"Is this what you want, Shepard?" he asked, more softly than he'd ever heard him speak before.

"Yes. Oh god, yes."

"You smell so good . . . here." His finger trailed the length of her pussy, and she arched back into the seat with a moan. He moved closer, and she could feel his hot breath on her aching wetness before he dragged his tongue hard across her core and her thighs clamped down on either side of his hump. She held the bottom edge of the seat in a white-knuckled grip while Wrex familiarized himself with her body, his fingers circling her opening before delving inside, his skilled tongue searching out every sweet spot he could find. The scent of her here was heady and wonderful, thick with her desire for him, and he thrust his hips into the air in time with his tongue. Her moans on every breath filled his ears and he met them with his own, the deep bass rumbling through her sweet pussy, and he could feel the muscles twitching and tightening as he lavished his attention on the hardened nub at the top of her folds. He gripped his cock and teased along the base, not enough to come but enough to make him ache to be inside her.

Heat pooled between her legs and spread down her legs until her thighs shook and the pressure built in her core, slowly filling her up until she thought she'd scream with the need for release. His fingers thrust inside her and brushed against that spot deep inside that she could never quite reach on her own and the pleasure finally crested and broke over her and she bucked into him, crying out as she came. He continued to lick her slowly, drawing out the aftershocks until she lay limp against the seat. With one last light kiss to her inner thigh he loomed over her, a red silhouette in the near-darkness. Shepard wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer until she felt the tip pressing against her still-sensitive body.

"Just . . . go slow," she said, her gaze traveling down his body to that gloriously big cock between his legs.

"I think 'slow' is the only speed this old man can manage right now," he said, only half-joking. He braced his arms on either side of her and touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed. "It's been too long, Shepard."

She kissed him, long and lingering, tasting her body on his mouth. "For me, too." She reached between them to guide him and he pushed slowly into her. She gasped and held onto his arms as he stretched her almost to the point of pain, but the sensation of being so full was absolutely delicious. The way she moaned and tensed around his cock was making it hard to stop himself from just shoving in as far as he could at once, and his claws dug shallow furrows into the hard metal seat. She was so damned tight and she felt amazing, so slick and warm and not entirely unlike a krogan in that regard, except for the muscles that contracted around him and drew him deeper into her body. Finally their hips met and he let out a huff of satisfaction; it felt so good to be like this with a woman again after such a long time.

"Hang on a second," she said, breathless, and had him pull out and move back.

"You all right?"

"Fine, it's just that my neck is jammed against the wall." She slid to her knees on the floorboard and turned around, propping her elbows on the seat. Wrex took a moment to appreciate the view (this wasn't a position he got to try normally, there was usually a stubby tail in the way) before sinking into her again. He felt even better like this, and she slammed her palm into the wall as he pulled out slowly before thrusting home, hitting her g-spot like a freight train that made her eyes roll back in her head. She rocked back against him, urging him to go faster, and he held onto her hip with one hand while the other slid up her neck to cup her throat and stroke her jaw possessively.

"Do I feel good to you, Shepard?" He licked her shoulder blade in lazy circles, and absolutely loved the way she moaned and gasped and shivered under his touch.

"God, yes. Wrex, please—" She wanted so much more, wanted him to pound her hard, she ached for it, but he held her hips fast.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, punctuating the question with a vicious thrust that bruised her thighs against the edge of the seat and she threw her head back, her hair tickling the side of his face. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his long life.

"Yes!" she cried.

His chest rumbled with a deep chuckle and he pulled her up against him, dragging his hand down to squeeze her breast. Funny things, those, but he had to admit they were fun to play with. "Then brace yourself." And with that, he let off the brakes and fucked her—not as hard as he would one of his own kind, not at first, but her entire body demanded that he go harder, faster, and he was happy to oblige. Her fingers scrambled for purchase on the wall and even though she knew she'd be hurting once the endorphins wore off, right now this was exactly what she needed. He was as rough as she wanted him to be, not bothering to hold back now as his scaly flesh smacked into hers over and over, his thick length filling her so completely. She could feel him lose his rhythm, his breathing short and ragged, and as his clawed fingers dug into her skin the pleasure built, flooding her body and she clutched his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

They raced each other to the finish and she bucked wildly as she came, her fluttering walls drawing his orgasm from him in a hot rush that spilled inside her and trickled down her thighs. Wrex dipped his head into the crook of her neck, running the flat of his tongue over her skin and tasting the salty sweat, the smooth alien skin, and the clean scent of rain that he was beginning to associate with her. He pulled out of her with a groan and sat back against the seat opposite her. Shepard settled on the floor in front of him and leaned back against his chest, his legs splayed out on either side of her.

"I don't think I've ever done this before," he said after a long silence filled with only their mingled breathing in the darkness.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, krogan usually only mate to make children. There's a whole process—submitting breeding requests, finding a fertile female, going to the female camp . . . it's a lot more complicated."

"That sounds really, um . . . well, passionless I guess."

"It is, in a way. Wasn't always like that, though. Before the genophage, we had families, took lifemates. Now, we treat our women like bargaining chips. It's one of the reasons I haven't been back to Tuchanka in a long time."

"So, you've done the whole 'breeding request' thing?" He grunted in the affirmative. "Ever have any children?" she asked, and he stiffened before answering.

"Two. I would have had two, if . . . if they'd lived."

Shepard turned slightly to see his face, but his gaze remained firmly on the floor. "I'm sorry." He saw her then, and it was empathy, not pity, written across her features. The empathy of a woman who knew what it was to lose children; he wanted to ask about it, but didn't. "Having a family sounds nice."

"You say that like you've never had one."

"I haven't. I grew up an orphan with a bunch of other orphans who didn't have time to give a shit about me while we all scrounged for scraps, trying to survive." She sighed and leaned against him again, taking his hand and studying it as she spoke. "It was a rough way to grow up, but I think I came out of it all right."

"That you did." He looked down at her, at the woman who was at once so alien and yet so familiar. "Shepard, you should know . . . as long as I live, you'll always have a place with Clan Urdnot."

She froze, holding his hand in her lap. He felt something drip onto his arm and roll down, leaving a wet trail across his scales, followed by another one, and her voice sounded thicker when she said, "Thank you, Wrex."

Reluctantly, they pried themselves out of the little cocoon of silence they'd made, got dressed, armored up, and checked their weapons. They would be arriving at Ilos soon and would be ready for whatever Saren threw at them, but they both felt better about their chances as long as they had each other's backs.

Really, she thought, there was something to be said about having a 400 pound krogan at one's back—it did wonders for one's outlook on life.