A.N: Chapter 3 Guys, coming faster now. Once I get to a certain point these might slow down a little due to incompletion on my part. I just love how Bree and James interact with each other. Well, now we are going to get a little more intimate interaction between the two. Read and review if you're able. I always like feedback on the work so feel free to say something that you like or don't like and I'll review it myself.

Disclaimer: Because it's required. I don't own Mass Effect, it is property of Bioware and other technological stuff. Bree is a character of my own creation. Thank you

Chapter 3: Later Night in Mess Hall

Three weeks since she'd joined the Terminus V-1 crew, and Bree realized something very beneficial to her. At precisely 11:30 Earth time, the mess hall, which consisted of a large table beside a smaller kitchenette, and a littler table in the corner with a few chairs scattered about, would be completely empty. Not a soul would be eating, or relaxing. They would either be at their posts, or in bed trying to catch a few winks before the next shift. This gave Bree the much needed quiet time she so desperately wanted. No one around, she thought, shifting herself out of the corner of the ship and walking over to the large table.

She sat for an hour, counting her breaths as she timed them with the hum of the engine. It felt good, just having this quiet time alone. It gave her mind time to rest. The sound of the elevator sliding open brought her back from that peace. Bree stood, panicked, though she didn't know why. Seeing a storage box in the far corner, she rushed over and hid behind it. Again, she didn't know why, but she felt like she was breaking the rules being here. She broke enough of them unintentionally as it was. The sound of someone walking over to the fridge was heard and the sound of a bottle opening and a sigh came to her ears. Risking being caught, Bree peeked up over the rim of the box and felt her breath stop. Standing by the small fridge in the low light was Commander Vega. A shirtless, rumpled Commander Vega.

Gulping down the saliva that had pooled in her mouth, Bree continued to stare, unafraid of being caught from this direction. There wasn't enough light in this corner to see anyway. So she stared all she wanted, letting her gaze roam over his tattooed body. He was packed! And the wonderful and intricate designs etched into his skin made the bronze shade that much more appealing. His hair, what there was of it, was sticking up in odd angles, like he had just woken up, and he leaned against the counter with a bottle of Earth's best beer.

As she watched the Commander wandered over to the table and sat with his back to her. It was then she noticed the N-7 tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Trying to get a closer look, Bree leaned farther out. And then promptly she yelped when the box tipped over on the floor, giving a large crash.

The Commander whirled around prepared for an attack, but lowered his guard when he spotted the small pale girl desperately attempting to merge with the wall behind her. He had to laugh as she made the cutest little picture. Bree gulped again, this time out of fear of being caught sneaking around her CO.

Commander Vega placed the bottle on the table and walked over to her. He saw her cringe just slightly before standing up with what little dignity she allowed. She was dressed in a pair of Alliance pajamas, blue and long, both in pants and sleeve. It almost swallowed the 5'5" girl before him. He smiled as she dusted herself off, and saluted him. "Good evening, sir."

Bree attempted to be somewhat respectful, but had a hard time with it as his bare chest was only a few feet away from her.

God, I wish he would just hold me against it, just once.

Bree studied the tattoos up close now, and realized that the one on his neck and shoulder was a fancy weaving pattern, whereas he had hash marks on his chest. Her eyes gazed toward the flat disks of his nipples and felt her gaze journey downwards stopping at the thin hair just below his navel and beyond. Bree caught herself and lifted her gaze up again. He was smiling. "You like what you see, chica?"

Bree opened her mouth to comment, but wisely shut it. Any answer she gave was going to get her into trouble she just knew it. So instead she walked over calmly and sat at the table he had been previously occupying. Sitting with her back straight, she laid her hands in her lap. The Commander sat again, in his spot, this time facing her. She was once again drawn to the fact that he was just so….male.

Everything about him screamed sexiness and hard lust. She was surprised he didn't get accosted more by the other women on the ship. Then again, most were afraid to go against the chain of command, what with it being slightly uneven since the Reapers. Bree sat calmly and watched him watch her. He was contemplating her, casually sipping his beer, and examining her thoroughly.

Really thoroughly, as she noticed his gaze drifted passed her face and towards her chest. She tried to puff out what she could, but didn't think it would make much difference. She wasn't all that busty, and was not afraid to admit she hadn't been for years.

Still, he stared, and Bree noticed his brow lift ever so slightly.

What that meant, she didn't know.

"So," he said finally, breaking her away from her last thought. "You never did tell me your hobbies, Officer."

"Must I tell them now, sir?"

"You're going to make me make it an order?"

She didn't answer. He didn't need one. "Alright, yes, you have to, Officer."

Bree took a deep breath and tried to focus on something other than his amazingly hot body not two feet from her reach. "Well, I like guns, for one."

He nodded. "I figured that one, any particular reason?"

"Well, there are so many kinds of guns out there, and each one has a unique feature. I find it fascinating which ones do what, and how they work. When I was really little I used to take apart everything I'd find just to see how it worked. If I couldn't then I'd ask my brothers for help."

"So," he started, taking another sip. "Any particular gun you like, size?

"I prefer the larger models, as they have much greater fire power, to the smaller ones, which are too easily expended."

It seemed like a feasible answer, but the silence that ensued made her think back really hard on those words. Her face heated up, even as his smirk spread over the rim of the bottle. "Really now, chica, you don't have to worry about that."

Bree stood up swiftly her hands planted hard, unsure if she was going to run or jump him. His eyes sparked, but he didn't stand to challenge her. She glared at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it! Sir," she added on as she came to her senses. He continued to grin. "Oh, I know what you meant, mi chica. Don't worry."

Embarrassed, and infuriated, Bree slide her chair back hard and stomped off. She didn't hear the scrapping of a chair, or the feel of the air move. What she did hear was the slight swear in Spanish that brushed her ears as two hands grabbed her shoulders. Determined, without a care for regulations, Bree moved with the pressure to chew out her CO.

A pair of hard lips stopped any words that attempted to escape her mouth; hard and firm, powerful lips that were accompanied by a pair of strong and sturdy hands tangling themselves in her hair and the cloth on her back. Bree was stunned for a full two seconds before she pushed her body back against his and threw her arms around those wonderfully broad shoulders. The hum of approval that came from him was refreshing and vibrated through her. She was in his arms, against his chest, and kissing his lips. Bree sighed and melted into his embrace, only giving a slight squeak when a wet tongue teased her bottom lip, before teeth gently bit into the flesh.

On a moan, Bree offered her mouth like a feast, letting him take whatever he wanted. And take he did. His tongue molded and teased every crevice it could reach, twisting with her own tongue in a dance Bree was unaccustomed to. So enraptured by the tongue and teeth of his mouth, she missed the stray hand from her back move down. She moaned in an arch as his hand cupped her butt pushing her forward into him.

And she felt a delightful pressure press against her belly, heating up her core to the ultimate highest level. Determined to take the flag and go with it, she let one of her arms slide off and trailed a hand over his chest. Her fingers flowed down, brushing hot skin, and the silver metal of his dog tags before going to the side. She was pleased when a sharp inhale of breath accompanied the movement of her nails against his left nipple. She felt dazed as the small bud hardened and the flesh around it gained goosebumps. He released her mouth, only to dip his head to suck on her neck.

Bree tipped it sideways to give him all that he could want, still rubbing her hand over his torso, letting her fingers trace over the muscled skin, through every dip and ridge.

She was gasping now, sure his mouth was leaving behind a small red reminder, and twisted when the hand previously on her ass, turned to more pressing matters.

Her breasts, which she previously believed were incapable of being huge, were swollen, tight against her shirt, and her mind wanted something, someone to free them. The sneaky hand spread over her breast through the cloth, grasping it within the palm. Bree gasped, letting her limp head fall back and closed her eyes to his touch. His lips pulled back from her neck.

James let his eyes drift to the woman in his arms. The sight that greeted him could have hardened an impotent. The previous shy girl from the shuttle bay had become a fully heated woman, with her glassy green eyes closed in pure pleasure. He felt the strained erection in his pants harden even more. With a pained groan he trailed kisses over her collar bone, wanting desperately to tear the shirt off of her, and bury his face in those beautiful globes.

He couldn't recall the last time he had wanted this so much with a specific person.

Bree moaned when he pushed her closer to him, letting her know how hard he really was. He had a feeling she was just as wet as he was hard. James threw caution to the wind and pulled his hand out of her soft hair-it truly was the softest he'd ever touched-and let his fingers pull the shirt's buttons free.

Yes, Bree thought, yes, please, free me from those binds. She reached over and did what she had wanted to do since she first saw him. She let her tongue slide over the weaving over his neck. She felt her CO shiver and moan, losing his ability to move for a second before returning to the task in a fevered manner. Bree felt giddy, joy bubbling up within her and she licked and nipped at his neck, tracing the weavings with the tip of her tongue.

For the first time, he spoke. It was harsh and strained with a tint of teasing underneath the obvious pain. "You have until the end of time to stop doing that, mi chica."

Bree giggled, running her hand over the small marks on his upper chest. Feeling bold, since he wasn't undressing her fast enough, she reached down and licked one of the marks. She felt him jolt and shudder, and she smiled before gently blowing on the wet mark. He cursed vehemently in Spanish.

"Ah-mujer, where did you learn this stuff!? You're killing me here."

Bree, looked up, and caught his dark gaze, he was sweating, panting for breath, so she smiled, feeling like hyperventilating herself.

"Not yet, sir."

He groaned closing his eyes, dragging her head up again to slam his lips to hers. Bree was straining, close to the edge, feeling the wetness between her thighs, the heat in her belly, she felt so tight and energized at the same time. When she reached for him, she sighed in wonder.

That was when the door to the elevator slid open loudly. They both stopped, staring in wide shock as the sound of footsteps and mumbling came from the other side. Bree leapt back, untangling herself from him and ran as fast as she could behind the boxes again.

James cursed internally as he rushed over to sit down again. The footsteps came closer and he crossed his legs in an attempt to at least try to hide his arousal. He knew how he looked though. He just hoped that whoever it was wasn't really awake.

Bree was curled in a ball, hiding in the dark, trying to calm her breathing, and her arousal. She squeezed her thighs together, and bit her lip to stop the cry that wanted to escape. She risked a glance to see none other than Chief Fredricks walk into the room. Seeing him was like a slap in the face. Bree hid back down again, fearful he might hear her. Fearful he might see the Commander wasn't exactly in the best of shape.

James could have wrung that annoying jerk's neck. He just had to pick tonight to do a random walk, had to pick tonight to interrupt what was most likely going to be the best sex in his life.

Although, he had to admit, doing it in the mess hall would not be a good idea at all. With that thought in mind, James prepared to bullshit his way around the Gunnery Chief and get back to the mujer bonita behind the boxes. He intended to move this to more secure quarters.

After ten minutes of subtly but forcefully shoving the stiff-neck's ass back to bed, James let out a breath, and stood to go back to his chica. When he looked behind the boxes though, there was no one.

She had fled, like a scared mouse. He swore violently, enough that even his abuela would have blushed. "Stupid son of a bitch, he made her rabbit on me." Sighing in sexual frustration, he debated tracking the little chica down, but decided against it. He didn't think it was often the vixen came out to play. He didn't want to push the limits.

But damn a cold shower did not sound appealing.

! #$%^&*(! #$%^&*( #$%^&*(

It had been two days since Bree's little 'incident' as she decided to refer to it as. Since then she hadn't seen hide nor hair of the sexy as sin Commander, and she didn't want to. The morning after the 'incident'-after a long night with no sleep-she had snuck her way down to the shuttle bay and locked herself at her desk in the attempts to avoid any conversation with anyone else in the vicinity. Taking a shower that morning had been disasterous, as when she looked in the mirror, hair dripping back, she noticed the nice little red mark brightly shining on her neck. Needless to say when she saw the other women enter, Bree hightailed out of the bathroom. Dressed in an N-7 hoodie, in the attempt to cover the little mark, she had sat staring into space for hours. The chief had scolded her left and right, telling her to get her head out of the clouds and actually attempt to work on something useful.

So she walked over to the ground team's equipment and did inventory. When she got to the Commander's armor, she paused, almost afraid to check the equipment. Stupid, don't get shy now you've been doing this for how many weeks. She sighed as for once the inner voice was right. Just because looking at the armor made her think of Commander Vega, which in turn made her think about how Commander Vega's body felt, didn't mean she was going to skip the routine check. Gritting her teeth and steeling against images best left untold, she grabbed the armor plating roughly; and winced when a small photo fell out of the inner webbing. Bree looked around to see if anyone had seen, but with luck they were all in their own heads. She bent down to pick up the small photograph. It was of Commander Vega. Well, the Commander and a group of people. Curious, Bree walked it and the armor plating over to her desk, checked to make sure Fredricks wasn't nearby, and examined the photo again. It was of a team of soldiers. As far as she could tell, they were an Alliance group. Commander Vega was in the far right of the group, smiling and giving the symbolic peace sign, which many of the men were doing as well. At his side though there was another man, older, who was upright, but even in the photo amusement shone in his eyes.

She figured this must have been one of his teams long ago. Feeling instantly intrusive, Bree shoved the photo back into the webbing and gave her examination.

When she was done, her mind wondered again. Why was she so afraid? Clearly, she liked the Commander, more than liked. And for all her squealing he obviously liked her too. She couldn't really find much fault in the man. He was a fine specimen, kind yet tough, a man who believed in hard work before soft politics, and after every mission, his armor needed to be checked. It always had burn marks, dents, and various signs of battle. He no doubt took the direct approach with each of his missions. So why was she pulling back?

Maybe it's time you stop being the background wuss for once.

Bree winced as for the second time today that inner voice spoke the truth. Maybe it was time. As she stood, a spark of determination in her eyes, her omni-tool blinked. Confused she opened the channel.

A.N: Huh? First time I've put an ending note in this series. Oh well. I hope you liked it. I'm hoping to put out another couple more before Christmas so if you have something you'd like me to cover tell me now or forever hold your peace. RXR everybody!

Dante: Why do you always end that way?

A.N: Because I can!