IV.

They docked at Illium, and as everyone filtered out of the ship to enjoy what very well may be their last leave, Miranda stayed behind for a moment while she browsed her messages on iPartner Connections, hoping that there would be at least someone halfway decent enough to take her mind off of what was to come. Perhaps it was sad, that this was the only thing she really had when it came to finding a 'connection' with another human being, but it was far too late to live her life any differently now. She had made her choices, and in the end it was better for some nameless person to warm her bed tonight, than for her to be completely alone.

Perhaps if she had actually had the courage to talk to her sister after the last time they visited Illium, she would be able to spend her last shore leave doing something that actually meant something to her, but at the time, Miranda had been too afraid to get directly involved. She didn't want to subject Oriana to any unnecessary risks, and so she forced herself to walk away from the only family she really had left. At the time, it felt like the right decision, but now…

Now she had regrets.

Miranda forced the thoughts from her mind however, reminding herself that she had made her choice, and that in the end, not having contact with her sister was probably the safest thing for her. Still, Miranda wished that she was spending her last shore leave with her, and not looking for some stranger to fuck just to ensure that she has one last orgasm before the end comes. It painted a very meaningless picture of her personal life, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

Turning back to her email, Miranda scanned the contents. At first glance however, no one that had contacted her on Illium even looked appealing. It was mostly men, and while Miranda enjoyed them as much as she did women, at the moment that wasn't at all what she was looking for; perhaps she was just desperate to replace Jack as the last woman she slept with though, as she was sick of remembering what it was like. Unfortunately, the only woman that had contacted her seemed rather timid and shy, and that wasn't what Miranda wanted either. The operative sighed heavily as she resigned herself to give the men another look, as in the end it would be better to have one of them than nobody at all, when her terminal beeped, indicating the arrival of a new message.

CONTROLFREAK_69. Juvenile, Miranda snorted, and yet it was a woman, and so she decided to open up the email anyway; it wouldn't hurt to look. There was no message, no word of greeting; just a pending document that was waiting to be downloaded labeled "Medical." Miranda raised her eyebrows in surprise, as it wasn't often that people just got right to the point of it, and as that was something she preferred, she clicked on it and allowed it to download.

Everything seemed to be in order there, outside of the name being blacked out, but before she answered the woman, Miranda clicked on her profile to double check that the woman was even attractive enough for her standards. Like her own picture, the woman's didn't include her face, but the under bust corset accented her full breasts quite well, and Miranda felt her stomach twist in excitement as her gaze took in the riding crop that was pressed between her cleavage. Well.

Looks clean, she typed back, to which the woman responded with, It is. Your turn.

Rarely anyone asked for any in return, as apparently most of the general populous didn't care who they were getting into bed with, just so long that they did, and so Miranda was glad that this person seemed to be as health-conscience as herself as she quickly uploaded her own medical records. There was a long pause as the woman no doubt read it over, before she got another message. Illiuminate Gardens, Room 12G, one hour. Come in a tight dress with no panties, or don't bother coming at all.

And then the stranger disconnected.

Miranda was left sitting at her desk, her eyebrows having risen halfway up her forehead. Usually, it was she who directed when and where, but with a name like CONTROLFREAK, maybe she should have expected it. In the end though, it really was a turn on; to be told what to do. It wasn't something she got from most people on this site, as Miranda did not reveal her preference for it out of concern for her own personal safety. Say that you want to be dominated, and suddenly sadistic people with no idea of the true meaning of dominance will use that as an excuse to physically hurt you, or outright rape you. Perhaps she just watched the news too much that it had gotten her slightly paranoid in that regard, but Miranda would much rather be safe than sorry.

As a whole though, women were far more trustworthy to not take things too far, and so without much forethought Miranda was off her seat in a flash, rummaging through her closet in order to find something that fit the bill of the mysterious woman's request.

[x]

As Miranda approached the door of the hotel room, her heels clacked loudly against the marble flooring. She was wearing a skin tight dress that only barely covered her assets and, as requested, nothing underneath. Not wishing to garner the attention of everyone she walked by however, she wore a trench coat over it that fell about mid-thigh; she wasn't exactly one to be overly risqué in public, after all. Her business was her own, and she did not want others assuming the nature of her visit to this upscale hotel which, Miranda admitted, she was impressed by. She did not expect someone to spring for something like this when it was only for an encounter that would, at most, last only a few hours.

When she knocked on the door however, she received no answer. Instead, after a long moment, she was buzzed in without a word, allowing Miranda to enter the suite of her own accord. One eyebrow rising as she closed the door behind her, she took note of the silence that greeted her. Intrigued by how this was going to play out, Miranda allowed her coat to slide off her shoulders before she let it rest on one of the hooks near the door. Then she followed the small hallway around to the large open area that seemed to be a duel bedroom/living area in one… and completely stopped short once her eyes rested on the woman on the couch.

Jack had one leg propped up on the glass coffee table, her elbow resting on her knee as she smirked around the thumbnail she was idly chewing on. "You better not be wearing any panties, princess, otherwise you can turn around and walk right out the fucking door."

"You…" Miranda began, her stomach beginning to twist in anger, humiliation, and complete and utter disbelief as she stared at the last person she ever expected to see. Her voice dropping to a dangerous decibel, allowing her fury to win out in the end, Miranda repeated angrily, "You."

It was all she could get out. Many other questions invaded her mind, but they were all overlapping and laced with confusion and anger and hatred as she stared at the convict across from her, who looked positively victorious with the result of her little game.

"Your tits look banging in your profile pic by the way; made them the background of my omni-tool holo," Jack told her, her tone conversational and light so as to purposely infuriate the other woman in the room. "Kinda sucks that every time I turn the thing on though, anyone else that's around me can see them too, but fuck it, right? Not like they have your name on them or anything."

Miranda slammed her purse on the table as her gaze shot up to connect with Jack's. She didn't believe her in the slightest about the omni-tool screen; it sounded far more like she was just trying to get a rise out of her than anything else. "What the hell is this?" she demanded furiously. "How did you even find me on there? I use a layer of proxies for a bloody reason."

"Pretty sure the Shadow Broker pisses on your little proxies, Cheerleader."

Fuck. Fuck. That's what Jack had been looking at while on the Shadow Broker base; of course the old one would've been able to bypass things like that, and would have detailed files of anyone aboard the Normandy. They were kicking up quite the storm lately, and were bound to draw attention to themselves.

Damnit, why the hell hadn't she been paying attention to what Jack was doing? The woman had warned her that she would find out a secret of hers and use it against her, but it had been two weeks since then and Miranda just… she honestly didn't believe Jack would ever be able to find anything on her anyway; the woman wasn't exactly tech-savvy. Still, if those files had already been pulled up…

"So what, you got my username off of there and decided this would be the perfect way to enact your little revenge?" Miranda snapped, placing her hands on her hips as she stared the other woman down, who still looked far too laid back and relaxed for it not to irritate the operative beyond belief. "Well congratulations then, you win; are you satisfied yet?"

Jack's tongue ran along the length of her teeth, looking far too pleased with herself right now. "Lift up that dress and I'll let you know."

"Oh, fuck you," Miranda seethed, not about to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing that she had obeyed her little request and had come here without anything on underneath. "I really hope you're happy about this, because this was our last—" What, their last shore leave, and her last chance to fuck some stranger who clearly didn't mean a damn to her? That sounded too pathetic to even voice, and so Miranda quickly changed topics. "Damnit, those weren't even your medical records! Or your picture—"

"Observant."

Miranda resisted the urge to throw something at her.

"The picture I understand," she continued, needing to know how Jack actually managed to pull something like this off; because fucking hell, she should have seen it, she should have known. She felt stupid for walking into this blind. "You could have gotten that from anywhere—"

"Some porn site," Jack answered, before a slow smirk crossed her face. "Knew that riding crop would get to you; you're way too fucking easy sometimes."

Miranda chose to ignore that. "But where the hell did you get those medical records, because stuff like that is private, Jack, and isn't supposed to be available to just anyone—"

"Might want to tell that to Dr. Chakwas that then," Jack interrupted. "Maybe then she won't keep them all in a file cabinet that's lock isn't embarrassingly easy to pick. Seriously, I was in and out of there in thirty seconds flat; it was a fucking joke."

Of course she broke into Dr. Chakwas' file cabinet; why was she surprised? "Once again, you've proven what an exemplary human being you are," Miranda responded flatly. "Who's even were they?" Because she had looked at all of the crew's herself, and she would have recognized the record, if that was the case.

"Fuck should I know? Probably some old patient of hers or something," Jack responded, shrugging. "Whatever. Only thing I care about was that it actually worked, 'cause shit, the look on your face when you saw that it was me was so fucking worth all the creds I paid for this fancy ass room."

"You mean you didn't break in?" Miranda shot back, one eyebrow rising. "Shocking."

"Thought about it," Jack admitted, her foot that was resting on the table suddenly coming to land on the floor as she placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, shrugging lightly. "But screw it; not gonna need money when I'm dead, right?"

That brutal reminder caused Miranda to exhale a long, hard breath as she turned away from her, and crossed the room to look out one of the large windows. What was the point of even getting angry about this? They had maybe eight hours left of their shore leave, and she didn't want to spend them screaming at the other woman about not being able to get laid for the last time. That was just—it was pointless. And recognizing that made Miranda feel sort of defeated, as she realized that she didn't really have any other way to spend this time; she didn't have a personal life, or hobbies, or do any other enjoyable things for herself other than fuck random strangers from time to time.

That was it. That was all her life amounted to. Work and… this; whatever the hell this was supposed to be.

"Do you realize that this is all our life really amounts to?" Miranda asked softly, looking out at the skyline of Illium, taking in the bright lights of the city and the bustle of traffic below.

"The hell you talking about?"

"I mean this," Miranda responded, sighing quietly. "Our last shore leave, quite possibly our last time to ever truly enjoy ourselves, and here we are; me, looking for pleasure from strangers and you, messing with my life for kicks. We have nothing of substance and it's… rather depressing."

"Man, you're a hell of a killjoy."

Miranda just shook her head, exhaling another quiet sigh as she turned to face her. "Just get it over with," she encouraged. "Call me a slut, laugh at me for coming here, throw the number of people I've slept with back in my face… whatever it is that you need to do to try to embarrass me enough for us to be even, and let's just be done with it."

Jack looked at her strangely, her brow crinkling as she took in the change in Miranda's demeanor. But all of this just reminded her of how hollow her life really was, and she just didn't… she didn't care anymore. What was the point of it anyway?

"Depression doesn't look good on you, Cheerleader," Jack informed her as she hoisted herself off the couch, raking her nails over the back of her scalp before she approached her. "And it's kinda fucking up my fun, so stop."

"Oh, apologies for ruining the fun you were going to have at my expense," Miranda responded dryly, rolling her eyes. But suddenly a hand was on her shoulder and she was being forcefully shoved against the thick window that separated them and certain death. "Hey!"

"You're a fucking idiot sometimes, you know?" Jack snapped, looking at her like she was being utterly ignorant. "The fuck you think I paid for this room for; kicks?"

Miranda looked at her in disbelief, before a short laugh escaped her lips. "You can't be serious." Jack actually lured her out here to fuck her? Because there certainly were better ways of doing that outside of digging into her privacy and then humiliating her with her findings.

"You got something better to do?"

Miranda shoved the other woman off of her, lines of irritation etching into her expression. "You tell me we're done, ignore me for two weeks, and now suddenly you want back in my bed? Have you lost your mind?"

"No, but I might lose my life in a week, so who the fuck cares what happens now?" Jack countered, outstretching her arms in a gesture of indifference. "Come on, don't act all fucking wounded over it; you would have done the same damn thing if I had given you the chance."

Miranda just stared at her, shaking her head in disbelief; because no, she wouldn't have. Even if she had decided that things between them couldn't go any farther than their one encounter, she would have spoken to her about it like an adult, explained to Jack her reasoning and let her down easy; not have one last kiss with her to screw with her head and then flat out ignore her for weeks like she despised her very existence. What the hell was wrong with this woman?

So Miranda just scoffed and moved to walk away, but in a flash Jack had snatched her wrist, imploring fiercely, "Miranda."

That's what made her stop; the sound of her own damn name. It was such an inconsequential thing when it came from anyone else, but from her, a woman who had never uttered it before, it suddenly made this conversation actually seem important enough to entertain.

"You actually know my name?" Miranda deadpanned, still not turning to look at her. Jack's hand still hadn't lost its grip on her wrist.

"Seriously, the fuck you getting all girly on me for?" Jack asked, apparently not understanding why she wouldn't just jump into bed with her. But in all honesty, neither did Miranda in that moment; why did it matter to her, what Jack had done? Why had it bothered her so bloody much that she had continuously ignored her? She wasn't important; she wasn't anything. "Don't tell me I actually hurt your feelings."

"Please. I don't care enough for you to hurt me, Jack."

"Yeah?" Jack challenged, her tone disbelieving. "Then why the hell are you making such a huge deal out of this?"

Miranda didn't know. She didn't know why she was so angry with her, or why any of this even mattered. Bruised ego, probably, that Jack didn't fall all over herself to be with her like the rest had. In the end, it was the only thing that made any sort of sense. That made her sound terribly egotistical however, and so Miranda kept her mouth shut. None of this mattered anyway; in the end, they both knew that she was eventually going to turn around and fall right into bed with her. It was what she came here for, after all, and it really was their last time to enjoy themselves.

She just really hadn't expected to be doing that with Jack. Hell, she hadn't expected that Jack would want to do that with her. The last time they had fucked, the woman was screaming in her face that she hated her while she brought her to orgasm; Miranda doubted she was high up on the list of people that Jack wanted to be around. And yet… Jack had brought her here. Why?

"Why me?"

Jack let go of her wrist then, taking a step backwards. "What?" she asked, confusion masking her sharp features. She apparently did not expect that question. "The fuck do you mean, why you? You've got a nice cunt and a banging set of tits, why the hell else?"

"I'm serious," Miranda responded, finally turning to face her. For some reason, in that moment, it was really important for her to know. "I may have a nice body, but you can't stand me; we can't stand each other. This may be the last fuck you'll ever have, so why pick someone you don't even like; surely you have better options. And why the hell did you spend an inordinate amount of money on this fancy hotel room that I know you have no interest in, when you could have just as easily done this in something affordable? I would have still come either way; you know I would of, so why did you—"

"Oh my god—just shut the fuck up!" Jack sneered, exasperated by all her questions as she grabbed Miranda's chin in her hand, muffling the operative's words with a kiss of such a fierce intensity that the woman practically stumbled backwards.

Jack used that to her advantage, guiding Miranda until, once again, she was pressed up against the glass of the hotel room's window. She kissed her until she felt Miranda succumb, until she felt her sink into her and grasp for her scalp as she realized that whatever she was feeling, whatever this was, it didn't matter. She just wanted to feel something against her that was warm, that was solid and that was real, before they reached the point of no return.

And in the end, maybe Jack worked better than most in that regard, as no doubt she desired the same damn thing. They could relate; once again, they could relate to one another, and Miranda wished more than anything that she didn't crave something like that, because she didn't want to fall into Jack any more than she already had.

Miranda moaned as Jack forcefully turned her around, unzipping the back of her dress and pulling it down her shoulders, past her breasts that she then forced up against the cold glass of the window. Miranda felt her nipples stiffen as she looked down at the world below them, all the tiny people bustling around on the streets that had no clue that if they just looked up, they would see something that would make even the most sinful of asari dancers blush. It turned Miranda on far more than she was willing to admit.

Jack hiked up her dress then, exposing her ass as she forced the operative's legs apart. Miranda allowed herself to be manhandled, and a sharp breath left her lungs as Jack's hand found its way between her thighs, her fingers running through damp folds as she confirmed exactly what it was that she had been searching for.

"I fucking knew it," Jack hissed in her ear, sounding victorious that Miranda had done exactly what she had asked. "You little slut."

"You're right," Miranda admitted, the words causing a light fog to speckle the clear glass of the window. "I am a slut."

It was the truth anyway, so why should she hide from it? Why should she be ashamed? She enjoyed sex; that certainly wasn't a crime. There was no reason for her to ever feel badly about that.

Jack just chuckled though, her hand tangling in a mess of dark hair as she forced Miranda's head to the side. "I know," she breathed against her skin, before allowing her tongue to trace the entire length of her neck. The feeling of it caused the woman beneath her to shiver in need as she felt Jack press her lips to her ear. "That's what I like about you, Cerberus bitch."

Miranda felt the woman shift behind her then, and a zip preceded the sound of her cargo pants falling to the floor. Something long and hard pressed itself between her ass cheeks then, and the feel of it caused Miranda to stifle a small whimper before she got ahold of herself, and tsked at the woman behind her. Had she been wearing that the whole time? "Presumptuous."

"Prepared," Jack corrected, sliding the phallus downwards and between her thighs, coating the length of it with the older woman's arousal. Miranda moaned, feeling the ridges of it run over her clitoris and then back again, and she spread her legs wider in her response as she pushed her ass directly up against the woman behind her. "Beg me," Jack ordered, her fingers digging into Miranda's hip. "Fucking beg me to fuck you with it, Cheerleader, and maybe I'll consider being generous."

"Please," Miranda gasped, not hesitating for a moment as she allowed Jack what it was that she wanted. This was their game, wasn't it; their dynamic? Miranda could fight against it, prolong it, but the fact of the matter was when they were like this, Jack was in charge, and that was precisely the way that both of them liked it. Why fight for a sense of control that she didn't even desire? "I want to feel you inside of me; I want you to fuck me. Plea—Jack, please…"

It was the use of her name that got Jack off, and the convict growled in approval as she kissed and bit the back of her shoulder, causing Miranda to whimper in need as Jack positioned the phallus at her entrance. Miranda had noticed the way Jack got whenever she used her name the first time, the woman apparently needing validation for what she was doing, and as it was such a simple way to please her, Miranda complied. In the end, she reaped the benefits from it anyway.

Miranda threw her head back, a deep moan ripping from the back of her throat as Jack slid inside of her. She reached blindly behind her, allowing her nails to rake over the woman's scalp as she grasped for the solidness, the warmth that she had had been aching for. Miranda could feel Jack's uneven breaths against the back of her neck before soft lips were placed against her skin, the kiss surprisingly gentle as the woman's tongue teased her skin. Jack was going slow, sliding in and out of her at a leisurely pace as she allowed Miranda a moment to adjust to its size. But it was… oh, it was exactly what she needed right then.

"Fuck," Miranda breathed, turning her head to place her lips against Jack's scalp as the woman continued to leave small hickeys up and down her neck. "Keep doing that," she begged, her lashes hitting her cheeks as she allowed the feeling of it to burn straight though her. "Just like that, please…"

"Slow?" Jack asked, her voice husked and a little disbelieving that that was what Miranda wanted right now. And honestly, she would have never thought that she'd want something like this either; it felt a little too intimate for the nature of their relationship, or lack thereof. Still, that was what she craved on her last leave; a closeness from another human being, even if that human being was Jack. She wanted to be held just like this and fucked very slowly until her body finally succumbs and she comes all over herself, right in view of anyone on the street who would happen to look up.

"Please," Miranda begged through another soft moan, Jack having slowly slid the phallus back all the way to its hilt. "Violate me later, put it in my arse if you want just—just give me this right now."

Jack paused as she contemplated that, and her uneven breaths against the shell of her ear made Miranda whimper and writhe in her hold. But then finally Jack moved, complying her wishes as she responded, her tone low and a little impatient, "Fine—fucking whatever; be a huge girl about this. But I'm holding you to that ass thing later."

Be a huge girl about— "Fuck you," Miranda snapped breathlessly, irritation crossing her face at being mocked like that. But Jack just reached up to squeeze her breasts, and chuckled lowly in her ear.

"You first."

It was a long while until Miranda finally came, but when she did she was panting and grasping for the woman behind her, chanting her name over and over until the pressure that had gradually built inside of her had finally released. She had known that she needed something like that, but she hadn't realized just how much until it happened. She felt weightless, she felt… she felt better. She felt like maybe, even if it didn't amount to anything in the end, that she got something worthwhile out of this leave, and that was all that she had wanted.

They fucked for hours, on every surface of the room imaginable. The bed was a last resort, as it was arguably the most boring, but as it was now Miranda who wore the strap on as Jack was mounted atop her, bouncing up and down as she cried out and panted and swore, Miranda found she would never dare think to call such a sight 'boring'.

When Jack came, her hands that were placed on Miranda's chest to keep her pinned pressed a little harder, her fingers curling inwards as her nails pierced the operative's skin. Miranda cried out at the same time Jack did, retaliating by digging her nails into Jack's hips, before the convict's body released one last shudder of pleasure, and the woman practically crumpled on top of her.

"Fuck," she panted, sounding spent and exhausted as she used one of Miranda's breasts as a makeshift pillow. The operative was breathing heavily as well, their marathon of sex beginning to finally catch up with her, and she closed her eyes as she placed her hand on the back of Jack's head, allowing the woman to just stay where she was for the moment.

They lay there in silence for a long while as Miranda idly dragged her nails over Jack's scalp, the movement eventually causing the woman to murmur soft sounds of approval as she settled completely into her. "Careful," Miranda teased, her voice hoarse and scratchy from all the screaming she had done. "Wanting to cuddle? You might be turning into a girl."

"Fuck you," Jack shot back, but there wasn't any venom in it and she didn't move. "This isn't cuddling, it's a fucking scalp massage; now stop talking and keeping doing that."

Miranda smirked, but complied with the woman's wishes. She enjoyed it, if she were being honest with herself; which was strange, because she didn't feel that sort of inclination towards Jack. Perhaps she was beginning to realize that she hated her much less than she used to, but the woman was still mouthy, rude, and irritating... it just so happened that she was also very comfortable to lay with.

In the end, a part of her was actually glad that it was Jack who had been waiting for her in this room. She was still intensely annoyed over the circumstances that had brought it about, but their time together had actually been… rather enjoyable. She definitely didn't hate it.

"Ugh," Jack groaned, shifting a little on top of her as she buried her face in Miranda's breasts. "I need to get this dick out of me, but I don't wanna move."

Miranda chuckled, gently guiding Jack to sit up and lift her hips so she could pull out of her. Jack grunted at the feeling, and after Miranda unhooked the straps and threw the phallus to the side, she grabbed the woman's hand and pulled her back on top of her before Jack could move completely away. The convict snorted, but surprisingly complied with her request as she laid her head back on Miranda's breast. Maybe in the end they really did crave the same thing; a sense of closeness with someone, even if it was with the last person they'd probably ever think to want.

Facing certain death does some funny things to people.

"Girl," Jack accused, because apparently to her, that was one of the worst things imaginable. And yet there she was, complying with Miranda's request for 'girlyness'; so what exactly did that make her?

"You know, your insults really aren't what they used to be. Is someone getting soft?"

"Cunt."

Miranda laughed, allowing her hand to run down the length of the convict's back. Despite her appearance, which was sharp and angry and loud, Jack was soft, her skin surprisingly smooth outside of the ridges of the scars that littered her body. There was one that fell down the entire length of her spine, with another crossing over it to touch her right shoulder blade. One was on the back of her neck, and more littered her stomach, another large one cutting right down the middle and extending outwards in a V shape over her belly button.

Until she started sleeping with her, until her finger started mapping every inch of Jack's body, Miranda hadn't really noticed how many there were. The tattoos that covered a large portion of the convict's body masked them well, and Miranda had to wonder if that was why Jack had begun getting them in the first place; to look more dangerous, and less like a victim.

Miranda had never minded the cruelty of Cerberus; they did what they had to to get the job done, looking at a bigger picture rather than one individual. Suffering, for the greater good, had been perfectly acceptable to her. But as Miranda lay with one of the individuals they had destroyed, her heart began to ache, and she felt sickened with herself for working for people who could do that to someone.

Maybe it was she who was getting soft.

Miranda wanted to apologize to her, to tell her that what Cerberus did to her was cruel, and that she was sorry that it happened to her, but she wouldn't allow herself to utter the words. She knew Jack wouldn't take it well; she would probably feel as though Miranda pitied her, and would close herself off in an instant. She didn't want that. They only had a few hours left of their leave, and Miranda didn't want to fill that time with an argument. It was better if she just… stayed silent, and allowed them both to enjoy what was left of their time together.

So in order to get her mind off of those things, Miranda pulled her hand away from Jack's scarred back, resting it atop her head once again as she asked softly, "Did you ever get that fish?"

"No," Jack responded, the word coming out mumbled against Miranda's skin. Her eyes were closed, and her fingers were gently tracing the dip in the other woman's waist. Miranda wondered if she even knew she was doing it, or if it was a subconscious movement. "Didn't want it to die."

"Well, having enough responsibility to feed it every day would be a good start to keeping it alive."

"No, you dumbass," Jack shot back, sounding exasperated. "The fucking Relay; ain't nothing coming back from that. Not us, not fish."

"Oh."

Miranda was silent for a long moment after that, and her lack of a further response seemed to tug at Jack's curiosity just enough for her to open her eyes and turn her head towards her. Her eyes narrowed when she took in Miranda's expression. "The fuck you smiling about?"

"You're just… unexpectedly endearing sometimes, is all. I never pictured that you would be."

"Nobody wants to kill a pet, idiot," Jack snapped, getting defensive as she started to look a little embarrassed at Miranda's assessment of her. But it really was unexpected; pleasantly so, even. Maybe even a little cute, although Miranda wouldn't dare call Jack that to her face. "Although I don't think Shepard really gives a fuck about hers. Thinking about liberating them."

"Liberating her fish?" Miranda asked, eyebrows rising. "And by that do you mean, break into her cabin and steal them? Because that could go over very badly."

"It's not breaking in for you if you're in charge while she's off ship," Jack reasoned, her gaze almost imploring as they held eye contact with the other woman.

Miranda's light laugher held a bit of a warning to it. "Oh no, don't get me involved in this—"

"Come on, Lawson; don't be a dick," Jack implored as she sat up, her legs still straddling the woman's waist as she looked down at her. "We might be crazy stupid enough to barrel through the freaking Relay, but it's not like the fish asked for it. It's totally fucked if we just let them die; like animal cruelty or some crap."

"So let me get this straight," Miranda responded, looking at Jack in surprise because for the life of her, she had not seen this side of the woman coming. "You have no issue with snapping a man's neck or crushing every bone in his body with your biotics, yet you don't want to see fish die?"

"Men are assholes," Jack reasoned. "When's the last time a fish pissed you off? They don't do shit to nobody; they're innocent."

"Men are arseholes, huh?" Miranda repeated, smirking as she shifted a little, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked at the woman atop her. "Is that why you're gay?"

"Never said I was gay, just said that men are assholes," Jack responded, like linking the two was a stupid conclusion for Miranda to jump to. "Doesn't mean I don't think that chicks are assholes too. Hell, look at me; I'm a huge asshole. And you, Cheerleader, you're definitely a fucking asshole… but hey, if you help me, maybe you can knock that down to being 'really fucking irritating' instead."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "You say that as though you presume I care how you view me."

"You do," Jack countered, placing her arms on either side of Miranda's body as she hovered over her. "Because you…" she drawled, leaning down to drag her tongue around the swell of the operative's right breast, "love," a sharp bite to her nipple followed then, causing Miranda to cry out, "to fuck me." Jack's head shot up then, keeping eye contact with the other woman as she finished, "And if I start thinking less of you than I already do, then I'm probably not gonna want to do that anymore."

"Please," Miranda scoffed. Like she didn't have an endless amount of options when it came to sexual partners; Jack was not the only person in the world that could give her orgasms. But Jack just exhaled an irritated breath as she pinched her nipples, causing Miranda to lose her train of thought and buck her hips as she exhaled a sharp gasp.

"Come on, just fucking help me, okay? I can't get in Shep's cabin without you."

Well that was true; only she and Shepard had access to that level. EDI could easily unlock it for Jack if she wished to, but it was doubtful that she would go against orders, and so that only left… her. Miranda smirked, realizing something. "So you need me."

Jack narrowed her eyes. "So?"

"So you need me," Miranda repeated, her smirk widening. "Say it."

"Screw you."

"Say it and I'll do it," Miranda compromised, even though, if she were being honest, she had already resolved to do it ever since Jack mentioned it. She found the woman's compassion towards innocents unexpectedly endearing, and there was a small part of her that wished to… encourage seeing more of that side of Jack; for whatever subconscious reasoning that she was certain she didn't ever, ever want to examine. Shepard was going to be so pissed, but surely Miranda could find an excuse to justify it; she just wasn't exactly sure what it would be yet.

Jack looked irritated beyond belief, but as this was apparently important to her, she pushed her pride aside and ground out, "—I fucking need you, okay?"

"I need you, Miranda," the operative corrected, pushing Jack's buttons for no other reason than it was amusing to her, and the younger woman's eyes flashed.

"I swear to God I'm gonna fucking punch you."

"No you're not," Miranda responded, growing more amused by the minute. But hell, Jack had had some fun at her expense earlier; now it was her turn. "You want those fish to live, so just say it."

Jack tensed her jaw. "Fine," she responded flatly, irritation written all over her striking features. "I need you, Miranda, you fucking self-absorbed piece of shit. Better?"

Miranda just laughed, which caused Jack to place her hand on her shoulder and roughly push her back down on her back. "I seriously fucking hate you," she growled, grabbing Miranda's wrists in her hands before pinning them above her head, her face just mere inches away from the brunette's.

"Mmm…" Miranda moaned, lifting her head up just enough to brush her lips against hers. "Maybe," she breathed, gently nipping on Jack's bottom lip, pulling at it with her teeth before taking it entirely into her mouth, sucking just enough to cause Jack to emit a soft groan. The convict leaned forward to deepen the kiss then, but Miranda didn't allow it to last long as she turned her head, and pressed her lips to Jack's ear. "But you love to fuck me," she finished with a smirk, throwing the other woman's accusation back in her face.

"Fuck you."

Miranda chuckled and, in a demonstration that Jack's power over her was only given, and not forcefully earned, she got herself out of the other woman's hold before flipping their positions. Hovering over her, Miranda watched the surprise wash across Jack's face as her brain caught up to what just happened, and the operative smirked as she allowed her fingers to drag through slick folds, prompting a deep groan and a sharp buck of hips.

"You first."

TBC…