Disclaimer: Bioware owns pretty much everything.
A/N: While there is not as much humor in this chapter, I added something I thought was just as fun. Be warned, my Shepard is a naughty, naughty woman.
Chapter 7: Titillation
Shepard contemplated the night's events, the pulsating music diminishing slightly as she entered the dampening field surrounding their booth. Dr. Chakwas and Miranda greeted her with questioning looks, and the commander shrugged, reaching for one of the newly arrived drinks. She plopped down on the couch next to Miranda and felt all eyes on her. She sipped from her glass slowly, the smooth taste of bourbon sliding down her throat.
"A bar fight, Commander?"
Shepard regarded the doctor with what she hoped was a neutral face. "Well, he did call me a bimbo."
A snort escaped from Tali and she quickly ducked her head. Kelly was still sitting off to the side, contemplating her hands. Miranda nudged Shepard softly. "What did he want?"
Shepard swirled the glass gently, then took a large swallow. "He wanted to apologize. Apparently, he thought Kelly was one of the bar's dancers."
Another snort escaped from Tali. "What kind of idiot would make that mistake?"
The commander looked back to Kelly who seemed to be trying to avoid any and all attention at the moment. "I'm not sure. Kelly? You have any thoughts on that?"
"Well," the yeoman looked off to the dance floor, then back to her hands, her gaze anywhere but on Shepard. "I told them they could buy me drinks if they didn't want to tip me."
Of all the things that Shepard thought she might have said, this was not one of them. A groan escaped from Miranda's lips and the commander found herself laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"Really, Kelly," she laughed again. "Here I was worried for your safety, and you're busy scamming people."
The yeoman shrugged and looked innocently up at Shepard, another round of bubbles exploded from her mask. "I didn't want you to have to pay for all the drinks tonight."
"God-damn it woman, I can't take you anywhere." Shepard downed the rest of her bourbon and started pacing again. Her anger had dissipated, but the restlessness remained. She flexed her hands and reached for another drink. The commander needed to do something, anything to get rid of this feeling, but the owners would probably be unhappy if she turned the club into a shooting gallery.
"Kelly, just sit there for a bit and don't do anything stupid," said Miranda as she headed for the dance floor. "Come on, Commander. You're too worked up to be sitting on your ass."
Shepard finished the rest of her drink and followed Miranda back on to the dance floor. Once more she was enveloped by the crowd, the thickness of body heat, and the heady scent of flesh. Shepard found herself once more moving to the music, the warmth of her earlier drinks coursing through her body. She felt someone brush against her and turned to see the slim man in the wolf mask. He gave her a toothy smile as he tried to dance with her. Shepard suddenly regretted her earlier attempt to improve his rhythm, but dismissed the thought as she focused on burning off her excess energies.
Miranda found Shepard as the song ended and pulled her deeper into the crowd. The commander nodded in thanks at her masked rescuer, who was quickly surrounded once more with admirers. Miranda shot her a brilliant smile and gestured to the right where a masked man was dancing. Shepard's eyes met his and she felt a hint of annoyance as she recognized Number four. He was dancing, surprisingly well, with an Asari and some of the men Shepard remembered from their table. She frowned slightly, and turned away from him, her attention on the crowd in front of her.
Shepard noticed a Turian dancing close to Miranda and sidled up next to him, once more moving her hips in time to the music. He twitched his mandibles in what Shepard hoped wasn't irritation, but followed her lead nonetheless.
A series of other songs followed, the bass pounding loudly in her ears, and Shepard became lost in the beat. She found herself dancing with any number of men and woman, always sure to keep Miranda in sight. It wasn't difficult, as Miranda was purposely doing the same.
The presence of an individual dancing behind her grabbed Shepard's attention, and she let her body respond to the rhythm of the music. Hands were on her hips, lightly, almost tentatively pulling her against an anonymous warm body. She could feel a firm muscular build, body taut beneath damp fabric. A small bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, but Shepard ignored how hot it actually was in the crowd, focusing instead on the sensuality this mysterious stranger seemed to exude.
Although her curiosity was piqued, the commander ignored the urge to face her partner, relishing the pleasure anonymity brought her. She had danced with numerous partners this night, and the excitement of mystery was intoxicating. Shepard had almost let her curiosity slide until she caught the look on Miranda's face, a mix of humor and surprise. The commander turned around and came face to face with her mystery man, Number four.
He shot her that now familiar half-smile and brushed her hair back from her face, feathery wisps tickling her neck.
"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I just couldn't help myself." An electric jolt shot down Shepard's spine as his lips barely brushed her ears, the feeling of electricity warming her body and causing her blood to boil anew.
"Can't you do anything but apologize?" He smelled of leather and sweet bourbon and the delicious pressure of his hands on her hips increased as she leaned into him.
He smiled teasingly in return, once more running his hands through her hair, leaning down to be heard above the din. "I'm not sure you'll let me do anything else."
Shepard arched a slender eyebrow. So he liked to tease? Well two can play at that game. She deftly disengaged from his grasp and wove through the crowd to Miranda's side, throwing him a tantalizingly evil smile. Miranda shot her a surprised look of curiosity as Shepard pulled her close, molding their bodies together in rhythm. A few hoots of appreciation sounded from the group of admirers around them. As the commander glanced back at her previous dance partner, she could have sworn she heard a strangled cry escape his lips.
A trickle of laughter escaped her as Miranda recognized Shepard's intentions, and ground her hips against the other woman's earning yet more cries of approval. The commander, however, kept her eyes on the crowd, scanning for Number four. The game wouldn't be any fun if he didn't want to play.
Miranda continued to move with fluid grace against Shepard and nodded subtly to her right. Number four had been spotted dancing with a human entertainer, but his attention was solely on the two women. Making certain that his eyes were focused on her, Shepard turned on her heel and executed a series of movements learned from the dancers on Omega. Miranda followed suit, her hands wandering over areas of Shepard's body she never imagined they would outside of medical necessity.
An almost pained, desperate look of longing flickered across Number four's masked face. The human entertainer dancing with him abandoned her efforts at holding his attention, focusing her energies instead on another member of his group. Shepard found herself smiling in cruel delight, her restless energies still unabated however, and she willed him to meet her gaze as he disappeared into the crowd.
The commander glanced at Miranda who shook her head. She had also lost sight of him, and Shepard found herself growing slightly frustrated at this turn of events. Was she going to have to pull out her gun once more to regain his attention? She began to wonder if the idea had any merit.
The commander's brief foray into bar-fight strategies and tactics was cut short as a strong hand clasped hers. Shepard found herself being pulled by Number four into the crowd toward the back of the dance floor. She shot a look at Miranda who smiled knowingly in return. The game was afoot.
Number four was ungentle as he pulled her, barging through the sea of anonymous dancers until they reached the back wall. He pushed her roughly into a shadowed corner, an anomaly amidst the iridescent lighting that pulsated throughout the rest of the club. His hands were on her hips once more, his grasp firm as he pushed his body against hers. Excited blood pounded in her ears as she met his eyes, alight with a mix of impatience and lust. This was her game, however, and Shepard wasn't about to let someone else control it.
The commander hooked her foot about his ankle, her hand on his wrist, and in the blink of an eye his back was against the wall where she had been only a moment earlier. He grunted in surprise, her hand on his chest keeping him at arm's length. Shepard felt a moment's satisfaction before the restlessness in her body resurfaced. The heat in her blood had not diminished and Shepard smiled hungrily at her prey.
The music thundered around them as she frantically pressed her lips to his, abandoning all pretense of a calm, cool, and collected commander. Shepard felt his hands roaming across her body, pausing once again on her hips and pulling her impossibly close. His arousal was evident and Shepard writhed tantalizingly against him, eliciting a soft groan from his roaming lips. He ran his hand through her hair, his mouth tasting every inch of exposed flesh, his breath hot on her neck. She shuddered with delight, longing for an outlet for years' worth of repressed cravings. Shepard found it reminiscent of her youth and smiled almost wistfully. After all, she had been only a teenager when last she engaged in such public hormonal indulgence.
Number four's hands continued to roam, and after a series of blindingly fast movements, Shepard's back was once more against the wall. A throaty laugh escaped her lips as she wrapped a leg around his thigh, eliciting yet another low groan. They were tangled in each other, all hands, lips, and legs, secluded in precarious shadow among dancing lights. Her blood pounded in her ears as a deep and potent warmth saturated her body. Eyes flashed open as he moved against her, her body a morass of want and need.
An indecipherable utterance escaped from her lips as she pushed against him. Number four met her gaze questioningly, a hint of mirth in his eyes. She reached roughly for his arm, pulling him through the crowded dance floor, the need for escape and indulgence guiding her steps. Her muddled brain was attempting to work, furiously trying to recreate the club's floor plan, but something that Kelly had mentioned earlier popped into her head and Shepard made a bee-line for the stairs.
Shepard smiled when she entered the VIP area, her intended goal in sight – the enclosed booths used for private dances. The commander stalked across the balcony punching a combination into her omni-tool and waving off the dancer inside the booth. The scantily dressed Asari gave Shepard and Number four a knowing smile, but said nothing as she left, closing the door behind her.
An eerie orange glow lit the booth as Shepard used her omni-tool to jam the monitoring devices, effectively preventing any potential security threat. Number four had come up behind her, his hands once more on her body, lips tasting her flesh. She turned around to meet him, pushing him roughly down on the soft couch and resumed her work. Shepard was still in control of this game, but she would be damned if anyone was able to watch it on a security feed.
Number four shot her another half-smile, body taut with longing and lust. Shepard snapped off her omni-tool, returning the booth to its original garish purple lighting and briefly pondered the situation that she was now in. The man in front of her was a prime human specimen, well muscled and feisty from what she could tell. Shepard remembered their frenetic commingling earlier and the heat intensified in her blood. She felt the ache of her body for his and gave into her desires, so long held in check.
He pulled her down, his arousal even more evident as she sat atop him. His lips warred with hers and he tasted of salt and rich bourbon. A soft, guttural sound escaped from his throat as they rocked to and fro, each lost to their lust. His lips and hands were everywhere and Shepard found herself wishing that Miranda had chosen a more revealing outfit.
Once again he moved lightning fast, and Shepard realized that while she was still atop him, she was now facing away from him. The momentary realization was interrupted by the renewed assault of his kisses and roaming hands, one cupping her breast as the other applied pressure in an ever so delicate locale. Although she tried to suppress it, a slight moan escaped her lips, and she moved her body in response, relishing the pleasure she thought long forgotten.
Shepard lost all ability to think rationally, instead responding to the demands of her desire. Blood continued to pound in her ears as yearning drove her onward. She moved against her partner's body, encouraging him on. His body was firm under a damp top, muscles flexing in time to their rhythm until she could withstand it no longer.
The commander arched her back as she reached behind her, attempting to blindly to remove the fabric that was the barrier between Shepard and her goal. A throaty laugh escaped from Number four as he caught her hands and nipped teasingly at the nape of her neck. He held her there, in the awkward position, as his other hand snaked around her front, sliding effortlessly into her clothing.
Her sharp intake of breath was plainly audible, but Shepard cared not, as her attention was elsewhere at the moment. She felt him smile, his lips still pressed against the back of her neck, his breathing heavy and hot. The game had changed. He was teasing her, and she knew it, but her body responded nevertheless as hips pushed up to meet taunting fingers.
Another intake of breath as he plunged into her and Shepard moaned softly with pleasure, marveling in delight at his manual dexterity. Her hands, though, he still held behind her, forcing her to keep her back arched awkwardly. However, Shepard realized that his grip was loose, and she soon resumed her earlier attempt to rid him of his pants.
Another throaty chuckle, thick with desire as Shepard brushed against him. Again he caught her hands, and again he nipped teasingly at her neck. Shepard floundered in frustration, and then in pleasure as he plunged into her yet again. She was quickly losing control of the situation, and worse, she didn't seem to care. She moved her hips against him insistently, his member straining against a barrier of clothing. His breathing hitched and Shepard smiled to herself. Perhaps she didn't need her hands after all.
Another quick series of movements and Number four had Shepard pinned against the wall, his body blanketing her back and his free hand exploring her once more. She sighed breathily against the silken fabric lining the walls, smooth and sensuous against her face. Her body pulsated with yearning, the potent warmth growing infinitely more compelling. She could feel him behind her, his manhood almost cool against her hot skin, his hand probing her body, teasing every last delicious amount of anticipation from her. She shuddered involuntarily, shifting gently against him, a welcoming invitation.
He shifted slightly, moving to accommodate her, gently teasing her as before, his breath hot on her neck. It was different, though. There was an urgency in his movements that had not been there before, and Shepard could feel the heat off his body. She moved against his member yet again, and arched her back as a low guttural sound emanated from him.
She held her breath as he started to enter her, deliberate, and agonizingly slow. Shepard almost cried out in frustration when he stopped moving, his hands increasing the pressure on her hips infinitesimally. He was pausing, intentionally drawing out the actual act and driving Shepard wild. She felt him move behind her, impossibly slow, stepping slightly closer and breathing in her scent. Shepard could have melted from the heat between their bodies.
A soft cry escaped her lips as he jerked his hips and entered her fully. Mixed feelings of relief and pleasure filled her as he moved deep within her, hips rocking gently at first, then gradually increasing in pace. He held her against him, blissfully trapped between his body and the silk-lined wall. Shepard gave up all attempts at control and instead rode the intoxicating wave of pleasure.
She moaned against the wall in ecstasy, the pulsating rhythm of their desire building to a crescendo. His hand still pinned her wrists, while the other sought to increase her pleasure even further. Shepard could feel his head buried in her hair, his breath sending shivers down her spine. She gasped in surprise as her body succumbed to his ministrations, a burst of heat pervading her limbs.
He increased his tempo immediately, rough and demanding, but soon slowing as he too succumbed to his body's demands. They stood there, each molded to the other and welcoming the languor that overtook them; a moment's respite well deserved.
Shepard breathed heavily against the silken wall, her body spent from the night's activities. She almost cried aloud when he pulled away from her, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of absence. She adjusted her pants, making sure everything was in place and as it should be. Number four was buckling his belt, the half-smile on his face overshadowing the awkwardness of the moment. Shepard suddenly felt very self-conscious, and given what had just transpired, decided to make a hasty exit out of the booth. She was gone before Number four even had a chance to do or say anything to stop her.