Garrus moved through the compound slowly, still on the alert for any pockets of trouble they might have missed. Shepard would have made a point of checking and double-checking to be sure she had cleared everyone out and he was fairly certain Jack could smell her enemies from miles away, but it never hurt to have another pair of eyes on the lookout.
The muted thump of combat boots reached his ears, but the pace was entirely familiar; Shepard had a peculiar brisk walk, right foot always striking the ground a little harder than the left. It made her easier to identify by sound when she didn't mind being heard; evidently she wasn't much concerned with discretion now.
She rounded the corner boldly, not glancing about to see if the area was clear- her gaze fixed on him immediately and he could feel the heat of it from where he stood several feet away. Some of that owed itself to the restrained anger he could see in her movement, but there was something more there that already had his body responding in kind.
"Shepard-"
"Vakarian."
That was either a very good or very bad sign; "Vakarian" always preceded orders, he waited to see what she had in mind this time.
"Did you know the crew's placing bets on us? They seem to think you are in charge here; I took the liberty of informing them they were wrong. Any objections?"
Garrus thought he had done an admirable job of stifling his growl at the defiance he read in her posture, but Shepard picked up on it easily enough. "Is there something you want to say, Garrus? Anything I should know?" She tapped her foot in mock impatience, eyes unblinking.
"Turian custom dictates that the head of the household does-"
"Head of the household? You're dating yourself; I don't remember ever having the discussion where we crowned you king and commander. In fact, last I checked I'm still listed as the commander."
Garrus couldn't quite stifle an exultant expression, "There wasn't much discussion involved, Shepard. I thought you understood, but if there's some question of who should be giving orders, I suggest we work it out here before we head back."
"What a coincidence. I couldn't agree more. Since the human method of deciding this debate would be for me to shoot you point blank, I suggest we work this out according to whatever Turian customs you've been holding me to."
Garrus was personally a great admirer of Turian customs, particularly when human customs were as unappealing as the one Shepard suggested. Then again… Garrus' eyes flashed to her gun. It went entirely against his nature to play with anything so deadly, but there was no reason they couldn't honor the human tradition if they were very, very careful.
Before the vague thought could do more than take form, Shepard had tangled her legs roughly with his and forced him bodily down to the floor, grinning triumphantly at him. There was something of a question in her eyes that he could not help but answer any other way than to seize her hips and drag her up against his smooth armor.
He had little warning before she dipped down to attack his sensitive neck, teeth sinking sharply into his exposed flesh. He hissed at the sting, talons raking down her body armor in a way that would surely have separated skin from bone. As it was, the pressure forced her to arch into him, canting her hips forward to keep her balance while her fingers made quick work of the clasps of his armor.
Recovering from his initial surprise, Garrus twined his fingers in her hair, yanking just a little too roughly as he fought to return the favor. Shepard only chuckled, the sound made hoarse by the strain on her neck. Garrus wondered if she were intentionally mimicking a female turian in the throes of passion, but asking as much would have demanded more of his concentration than he was willing to divert from her.
They both paused for one long moment when his armor slid into her hands and she cast it aside; her palms ran absently down his plates, reassuring herself of his presence, he combed his talons through her hair carefully, feeling the shift and movement of the endlessly fascinating strands.
And then they were frantic once more. Something was different, and Garrus was ashamed to admit that it took a minute for him to find the source of that nagging feeling. Normally they bantered and teased, whispered loving words and light jests; now there was no sound save for his labored breathing and Shepard's soft pants when his hands finally found her bare skin beneath the layers of heavy armor and compact body suit.
This was altogether more solemn and intense, lacking the customary sense of ease that was usually palpable between them. He spared a moment to regret the misunderstanding that had led to this, then his mind's eye flashed back to Shepard's first feral grin when she had tripped him to the ground and any sense of remorse was lost in anticipation.
Shepard's nails found his fringe and began to roughly trace patterns there; Turian tradition she had said, and he intended to take her at her word. She hissed when he tugged her hair firmly, using it as leverage to peel her away from him and pinning her bodily to the cool floor. He couldn't stifle a quiet moan when she hooked her legs around his waist, bucking up into him provocatively, pushing him back until she could gain her knees.
She jerked when he bit into the joining of her neck and shoulder, careful not to draw blood, he had learned early on that Shepard's skin was not as tough as turian plating. Those fingers of hers though were far more nimble than his own; Shepard smirked to see his eyelids flickering when her calloused fingertips slowly traced down to the familiar slit in his armor, slipping inside to coax and tease him relentlessly.
"My turn." Garrus rumbled, talons tracing up the curve of her spine delicately until she shuddered at the sensation.
Shepard chuckled, "'Bout damn time, Vakarian. Thought you might be waiting for an engraved invitation."
This. This was natural, the permission he'd been needing, and it instantly set him at ease. Shepard sighed softly as he traced a steady circle around her aureole, rocking her against him with one hand gripping her hip firmly to guide her. Shepard had the advantage- she'd managed to steal a few extra moments while he had wallowed in uncertainty- but he knew every one of her tells, every sigh, every glance, every unwitting twitch; humans were delightfully expressive creatures and their body language was far less subtle than they liked to believe.
He knew what she intended when her wrist shifted just so, taking him in hand and stroking firmly until it was all he could do to keep his blunt talons from bruising her flesh, he knew from her hitching breath when his palm moved from her hip to abdomen that he had found one of her myriad sensitivities, and he knew from the way she writhed that even she had some doubt as to whom would emerge the victor.
Garrus knew for a fact that it would be her; it had been foolish of him to assume Shepard understood what, to a turian, would be obvious. Now that she knew she had every intention of seeing to it he knew his place in their domestic hierarchy.
He wasn't quite resigned to it, though. It had been difficult to work his way to this point and he would not surrender it willingly. Garrus waited until he could feel her settling, thumb pad finding his sensitive slit to smear the wetness there until he growled with desperation; her every move bespoke complacency. He shifted suddenly, catching her wrist and knee to force her to her back once more. Shepard kicked unconsciously as his rough palms caught her knees, hooking them over his shoulders until she was bared to him.
He winced as her head connected with the floor, falling back at the first touch of his tongue to her sensitive folds. "Sneak." It was half-jesting, half serious and he knew there would be a price to pay later.
"Any advantage, Shepard."
"Remember that later." Shepard ground her teeth together unconsciously when that clever tongue slipped into her, a little too rough and yet just right. She clenched her jaw, fingers finding his fringe unerringly and digging in there. Fuck, at this rate, she was doomed. When the hell had he decided to press his advantage?
When the hell had she allowed him to? "Garrus." She panted, stifling a strained laugh when he slowed, obviously listening for her surrender. "Please, Garrus."
Garrus rose up her body slowly, tongue circling her navel absently while those talons followed the curve of her waist to play over her ribcage distractingly.
"Garrus." She whined.
"Yes?" Too smug, she decided.
"Any advantage." With a neat twist she reversed their positions, but knew it couldn't last long. He had nearly finished her once, and she had no intention of allowing him the opportunity until she was certain this game had been decided in her favor.
She leaned down to press her mouth nearer to him, hot breath tickling his skin, "As soon as we get back to that ship, I'm pulling out your cuffs and chaining you to that bed. You'll have to beg me very nicely to take them off. And I won't do it. Not until I'm through with you." Garrus groaned and she knew it was nearly over. One calloused hand slipped down to find his length, sheathing it in a smooth, practiced motion. Those wicked teeth clamped into her flesh once more and she felt the skin give beneath it, reveling in the slight pain; she took it as her due, knowing that regardless of what he or anyone else thought, she belonged as much to him as he did to her.
Her own teeth sank one final time into the flesh of his neck, too blunt to pierce the flesh but leaving a bruise she laved tenderly even as she rocked against him roughly, determined to coax out a final admission of willing surrender.
His hand found her clit, circling tauntingly, and it was too much after all. She stiffened and writhed, but try as she might she could not stop her release from overtaking her. Garrus gasped, following immediately after, bucking up into her until she thought she might be too sensitive to bear even another moment, then pushing it that small moment beyond. She fell against him, resting forehead to forehead, hips still splayed over him obscenely, elbows propped on either side to support her weight.
"I call for another round. That one was rigged."
Garrus drew a few more deep breaths before answering, "If you can think this soon, I'd say another round is called for." His talon had already begun tracing lazy circles about her clit, careful not to overstimulate her, but she could feel the familiar lust building once more.
"Let me make something clear; you're Turian rules might say you're in charge or something, but you married a human. Means equality, Vakarian. We can-"
"I think you're just angry because you lost." Garrus smirked playfully, mandibles flickering in a gesture she had come to realize was an indication of humor."We could call it a practice round."
"Your CO wasn't done speaking. We can play these games as much as you like in private, just so long as you understand that I will have my say, and I am your CO, damn it. That means taking orders even when they don't really suit you, clear?"
Garrus huffed softly, "I reserve the right to argue and occasionally make pissy comments you may not appreciate."
Shepard snorted, "Of course, just so long as you understand the only reason you're getting away with it is because I love you to distraction. Even when you're being a nitwit."
"Hm. Shepard?"
"Yeah?"
"I make a motion that we move the proceedings to your cabin; I'll give you the cuffs for a handicap."
"Done."
"And Shepard?"
Shepard shuddered as one blunt talon edged into her, "Yeah?" She was proud of how very even her voice sounded under duress.
"Love you too."
"Obviously."
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Wow. This chapter took so much longer than it should have; suddenly I just seem to be smut-blocked. Plot works fine, smut takes days.
Anyways, one final chapter to go, which shall be posted tomorrow come Hell or High Water.