The Madlis dinner did not include the Normandy crew. Nobody would be going other than Garrus and Jane. Too many inclusions, exclusions, and Garrus decided that insulting everyone would be better than including only a few, siding again with exclusivity.

Not that Jack would have done well there, but Karin Chakwas at least…

Garrus insisted it was for family.

He did formally and officially invite Thane, who regally and intent on living, declined.

That word…

Family.

She had to redefine that word. Family had always meant duty. It had been clear and achievable and resulted in approval or disappointment. Her parents had been her family and that had set the tone. Approval she understood. She had never associated her lovers with family. There was no structure for her to build a family without violating laws. Bigamy. Trigamy. Quartamy. Septamy. Octamy?

Now she had two loves in her life, and one of them would ever be secret at a time when she would want to drag him into the light and force acceptance and forgiveness, upon pain of death.

The Alliance had become extended family, and that was again approval or disappointment. She became close to her units, but after Akuze…

After Akuze. Time frame A.A. She was different After Akuze. She had been primarily responsible for her own survival, but primarily responsible for her unit's deaths.

She had killed family over and over.

Disappointment. Failure. Death.

She had seen her counselors, told her story truthfully, bore the burns across her skin and her mind. Parts of her were seared, scarred, and not just from Akuze. After being reborn through Cerberus the outer desolation of her acid-burned scars were gone, an odd loss. The desolation remained internally, and formed the hard limits of her restraint, her control, her understanding that she had a job to do and the costs were incalculable, and she still had to calculate.

Now she was loved no matter what she did, and she wanted to extend that to those she loved, but wasn't sure she could lose the habit of approval or disapproval. She couldn't have had better examples of selflessness. She faced disapproval and mutiny for doing her job and dying. Love was unpredictable and surreal.

She hadn't hesitated when it came time to kill a thresher maw for Grunt. He was family. She bore no scars from that event, but hadn't healed any either. Her internal scars were permanent and enshrined. She would accept no encroachment on what to her was holy scarred ground, salted and scorched so nothing new would grow in the desolation and it would remain as she had seen it, soon-to-be-corpses and screams from melting mouths. No healing.

This…was different. This was not the chlorinated and enclosed, clear and limited pool of the meaning of family in her experience. This was the ocean, surface dazzling and drinking in the sun or glint of stars, depths unseen and roiling. Unbound potential for grace and beauty and horror. Emotions like creatures with no bounds to their hunger or growth lived in the dark where the sun never touched. She was captivated by the mystery of love, the new sense of family. Garrus and Thane would fight for the right to give their lives. Garrus's mother would defy the social mold she was given and try to smash it under her frail heel for her son.

It was huge and primal and she did not know how to swim. Parts of her did know, and had slithered from the exposed shore into the depths to hide and hunt and grow.

Dancing they had taught her. Swimming…she would try to develop an appreciation for the potential, but for now she was on the shore contemplating love and what it could accomplish in the right hands. How it could be destroyed in the wrong hands. How the best of her as well as the worst of her now had permission and endless space. How she wouldn't go out too far because of what she was afraid of was familiar, not foreign.

She was swathed in the mystery of how the fuck she got here. She loaded into the shuttle on Garrus's arm, with Thane's hands having twisted and knotted her hair into barbaric curves that resembled her arm cuffs, crescents and whorls. Thane's venom, as promised, was in their blood, tingling on lips and tongues and skin, shared and present, unforgettable and calling to them. She would remember the look of pride on his face, the soft aura of color surrounding him that faded from her vision the farther she got from him.

She and Garrus were nervous and mostly silent on their way down, speaking only when they started to hear and feel the deceleration of the shuttle, a very brief ride, not enough time to be ready.

Life wasn't on her schedule.

Garrus stood and offered her his arm, and she hooked her hand through it. A human gesture he found charming. A helpful gesture based on the height of her heels. His smile was crooked as he said "Nervous?"

She said "Oh hell yes."

He squeezed her hand with his and said "Me too. I'd rather face a gunship."

She laughed and said "Please, no. You need a place for paint."

They were escorted by security to a side room, the Madlis was huge, Vakarian blue everywhere. She waited as his paint was reapplied, and admired the polished and deep blue that looked so unlike him.

They were both so unlike themselves, not even marginally armed, shining and coordinated. She said "This is fucking weird."

He tilted his head down and laughed, said "Yeah. Thank you for all the weird shit you've done for me, Shepard."

Now it was her turn to put her head down and smile. "It's been my pleasure, Vakarian."

He drew her hand through his elbow again, and said "About to get weirder."

She said "I can't even kiss you. Thane would kill me for smudging us."

He said with a chuckle "We'll make up for it later when we've been approved to smudge. Ready?"

She said "Hell no."

His mouth twitched and he said "All right then. Let's go do this."

Walking through the Madlis was an introduction to Turian architecture, Turian home life, through the lens of a living museum. War and pride of place rebounded through the halls. Sculpture and trophy and splendor. The layout was a constellation of concentric circles, starting with the largest room at the center, where they were headed, and radiating out into smaller and smaller satellites, housing thousands of Turians who lived there full time or visited. There were hundreds there tonight in the great hall, even the Primarch, who was not a Vakarian but had been curious enough to request an invitation.

The center Madlis room was huge, stadium-like, the combined voices having a vibrating hum that made the place sound like a hive. It had a domed roof of some clear polymer stained Vakarian blue, with the night sky and part of Menae visible through it. She restrained her instinct to swear, and the sheer number of people seemed to knock her out of her head, eyes turning to them, taking them in. She moved on instinct, outside herself, curiously watching to see the result of this tidal wave that washed her beyond herself. Not stage fright, but stage…something.

Stage fascination. The sheer wash of energy and attention her way was a psychic, overwhelming power. In public she'd always had something to say, and right now, she had only to be, awash in attention. She was and wasn't herself, not on a podium but a stage.

Altered state of mind without the drugs, inspiring confidence as more attention flowed her way.

No wonder people sought this, became addicted to this. She could get used to this too. For the right reasons she was going to have to, and some of the worry unstuck and floated away. She could and would do this, and do it well.

Fortunately there was formality to be followed. Garrus held her hand on his arm, and she mostly inclined her head and smiled with introduction after introduction. The voices were soothing and she kept the fine tremble that she felt she should be feeling out of her limbs. There was no Turian tradition like shaking hands, so she only inclined and raised her head, grateful to not have the vibrating reality of other people's hands in hers, gathering more and more attention like electricity building in a corona around herself.

Garrus had friends and family among these people, interspersed with the new introductions, and there were comments on how his marks suited him. She gathered that his scars were prized as marks of valor and that made her so very happy. She learned the Turian equivalent to the human phrase "Thank you for your service" in Vakarian, in this place, repeated often, to Garrus, to her.

"These walls listen when you speak."

Smart walls.

They held their place for a long time, and people came to them. The bizarre sense of too many people and too much attention slowly sheeted off and she was more herself, varying her facial expression to avoid looking made of plastic and holding his arm. She managed to not say "cooooool" or "holy shit" to new views, new compliments that when given to him seemed entirely deserved and when given to her seemed…overblown. She was accepted with grace if not awe and was pleased to meet everyone.

Her eyes got caught on him a few times and he'd turn his head to look at her and they'd almost laugh. He'd squeeze her hand and go back to conversation and she'd tear her eyes away, the ghost of a charmed smile around her lips.

They met the Primarch, his paint a deep red in what looked like flame pattern, promising resources and support, looking forward to an opportunity to work together.

It was a sedate evening, buoyant and freeing in many ways. Solona was charming and it felt closer to home to have Garrus's voice tilt into warmth and teasing with his sister, complimenting her on the work she'd done to make the affair happen. Garrus's father was formal and somewhat stilted, but there was real pride in the undertone of his voice. She fell in love with Garrus's mother, warm green eyes following them as they moved through the room. She could not stand, but sat regally in her mobile chair at the circular table in the center of the room, laying her hand briefly over theirs and squeezing. The evening spoke for itself, and she said "These walls listen when you speak, Garrus, and I long to hear your voice. Spirits watch over you and guide your steps."

Garrus said "Avah, these walls have had no better guardian than you. It is my privilege to bring to you Commander Jane Shepard, whose shadow marks my path."

She turned to Shepard and said "We are an old people, Jane. Some of us have failed through no fault of our own. Some of us have failed through losing their way. Some of us still fight. I look upon two who will not fail, who have not failed, and who light the way through darkness. You have saved many lives that grace these floors, whose voices are heard because of your actions. Clan Vakarian will raise their voices for you. May the Spirits light your path as you have lit ours, and may your beauty and strength bring each other joy."

Jane swallowed hard and said "Thank you for the welcome, the honor, and for creation of miracles, in your son and in your guidance."

She smiled and leaned back, clearly exhausted but determined to see it through, heroism in her struggle to push consciousness through her eyes, through her will, to see her son honored, his future and past legitimized. It brought tears to Jane's eyes but she dared not cry.

Garrus leaned forward and pressed his crest to his mother's, and Jane hoped it was not for the last time.

Solona had explained that their Avah was exhausted and she would retire early, so the dinner would come later, but she wished to see them dance before she left. It was the only time during the evening that Garrus had dropped her hand, because she needed to ask him to dance.

Tables were in the center of the room, but the outer space of the room was cleared, in a wide band. It was traditional to make a full pass around the room alone before others joined, and then two more before leaving the floor. How to ask was also traditional and symbolic. The woman stayed where she was, she was the home and the host, and the man must travel to her. The larger the Madlis central room, the longer the travel. She would hold out her arm to him and he would…walk away. He would walk until he came back around the circle, put his arms on her waist and begin the dance, having accepted symbolically that forward or back, his path was determined by her and he would meet her on it wherever he went in life, he would always find his woman on his path.

This wasn't a bonding, which was a different ceremony, but it was declared interest. Opening the dance after Garrus completed his walk would allow other women to ask men to dance, and walking the circle alone was a way of declaring the extent to which a man would go for a woman, for her clan, leaving his own clan and making his home with her, a journey and a choice he must make alone, but could not make unless she asked.

Normally she'd be a Vakarian and he'd be a man from another clan, but in this case it was loosely translated. She opened the dance, she was under Vakarian protection and he was a Vakarian, walking his path to her and with her, wherever she would lead.

For them, it was perfect.

Other women had the time through their first dancing pass through the room to ask a man to dance with her, and for him to take the walk. By the end of their first pass around, women could ask men to dance without the walk, and the floor would fill up with those who were involved, or interested in being involved, or interested in telling others they were involved, or just wanted to show off dancing.

That was also perfect, moving from formal to informal over time.

Turian music was mostly percussion. With the music starting she held out her hand to him and walked to the start point. He followed, faced her with a look in his eyes that invoked…smudging…and don't think about that right now…and Jane try not to think about…and failed, Thane's hands and whispers, Garrus's husky laugh and groans, tingling skin with flutters of fabric, Tseni and new, bright blue paint.

She had a lot to think about as Garrus walked to percussion, purposeful and measured. She would face his retreat and not turn, waiting, eyes on them and the voices of the halls silent, the only sounds the steady beat marking his footsteps. Her apprehension had evaporated from the slow gentle warmth of the evening, clearly if she was under this roof, she was family.

She stood, and when he'd passed from her vision shifted her eyes to look through the blue glass of the ceiling, stars and moon, following the sound of his progress until his hands settled on her waist. Her smile was spontaneous and choreographed and it was all perfect. Over the course of dance lessons she had learned that with his eyes, with his hands and body, he gave her every cue she would need, and all she had to do was listen to him, feel his hands and follow. He had varied the dance from traditional so each step was not scrutinized for perfection of following form, but suited what she could do with it. Nobody would know what was to come next and it could be spontaneous for them. He could, in fact, cover for almost every misstep she might be able to make short of falling on her ass, and he could probably pull that off by making it look intentional.

With every eye unmistakably on them, she felt that wave of watching herself, watching him, and savored every moment of spinning, flashing promenade. She had discovered that this they could do, they had the communication from a hundred battlefields and had worked out signals in silence, unable to mouth words because…different languages. She now knew from his eyes and tension in his body when to turn, when to slide along the length of his arm, hand lingering, until their hands met and he pulled her back, when to be lifted in his arms effortlessly and set back down on turning, hovering feet, carried along by his momentum. It was trust and freedom and witnessed joy, the warmth and confidence in his body and eyes, the way her dress would swirl around them both, how he'd avoid getting it snagged in his spurs and how her ankles wouldn't twist and stayed in the shoes, a hundred little practiced moments that bore fruit right now.

They could own a moment together, without fear, without failing, without folly.

She wasn't exactly cool or haughty, she was warm and in love, lingering hands and eyes. She'd be surprised by the flash of new blue paint, formal attire, this man so accustomed to grime and weight, flashing with talent, happiness and Halrin fittings. That was the name of the metal that Thane had chosen for them, suiting the blue in her eyes and the blue in his paint.

They passed a male Turian walking on the floor, passed a woman standing still, passed others, and the floor began to fill up, more athletic and stylized dancers, stunning and humbling, but her partner was perfect and she was going to give him everything she could, so she did in each moment.

Three passes wasn't enough to celebrate, but he ended the dance by picking her up in his arms, spinning and pressing his crest to her forehead, short of breath from exertion and emotion, eyes closed and a smile on her face she could feel spread through her.

Her feet hurt and she immediately thought of Thane and making him proud, the fabric against her legs making her grateful she could keep her face straight. He said softly "I love you, Kerim." and she answered "I love you, Garrus Vakarian. Thank you for dancing with me."

He set her on the floor, and the smile didn't leave their eyes, the tension and worry broken over performance and all attention spent soaking up the moment.

Dinner was relaxed as she listened, mostly. People seemed less inclined to speak to her than to Garrus and she was fine with that. She was trying to manage…not eating. She didn't want to give insult, but the red wine was out with this dress and she wasn't going to eat any meat with dripping jus. Tiny, dry things, firmly on a fork, eating just to be polite and not end up with Thane glaring at her over a stain. Which he would never do, but it sounded funny in her head.

Garrus included her often, hand on her arm, turning her head to smile at whomever and it appears she left people…stunned, impressed and relatively speechless. Excellent, Thane will be thrilled. He was watching at home.

Home. He'd be getting his own cabin very soon, and so would Garrus, and Garrus would spend time with Tali wrapped in his arms, whispering and laughing, that just made the place more home. Home and family and spreading joy.

The biggest surprise from the evening was Garrus's father coming back after he had taken his mother to retire. She had assumed he'd be gone, but he waited patiently to speak to them, and when he looked at Garrus, some of the ice and awkward melted away. His voice was low and proud as he said "You have given your Avah a blessed memory. Garrus, Commander Shepard, I know I am often not accorded the privilege of having a heart, but today it beats for you. Spirits watch over your journey. Come home to us. These walls need your voices to be heard."

Solona came up behind as their father left Garrus speechless and said skeptically "Did I hear that right?"

Garrus nodded, stunned, eyes glued on his father's retreating back.

Solona said "A day of miracles. You've come home, Garrus. Commander Shepard…"

Jane interrupted for the first and only time of the evening "Please, call me Jane."

Solona drew in a deep breath, looked at Garrus, who nodded with a smile and she continued "Jane. Thank you. I add my wishes that you come home safely. That you find joy in each other, as we have found joy in you." She tilted her crest to Garrus, who took and squeezed her hand to her surprise, and then she smiled at them both, and left them.

Shortly after, Garrus excused them and they headed back through the Madlis, stopping to talk occasionally or moving on with a nodded greeting, making his way through the maze back to the shuttle.

It was entirely disorienting in a role way, both equals, both simply people, no rank, no mission, nobody dead by the end of the evening. Nobody poisoned, no server jumping up with a gun and a cryptic warning.

Just a dance and a dinner and family and for once she really, really understood why people bonded, why people married, the lure and the draw and the possibilities. She'd never seen it, thought it was a lie the same way Thane thought honesty was a lie. A myth that must have faith in order to create a truth.

This was so very close to bonding, with the freedom still intact, and she was overflowing with pride. Right now she was in full bloom of romance, and she kept waiting for it to perhaps end or fade, or moments where he would take her for callous granted, causing her to retreat. It never happened. She knew the strength of beginning romance and she was wary, but this was not shore leave days in bed together and lingering goodbyes. These were days of work and food and gunfire and laughter and companionship and…there was nothing like it. She could see herself, with this man, for her lifetime, as long as that was, and the strength of his gaze and arms and signals, every single one, welcomed her to reach for that, reach for him, drag Thane along as he lurked, both their hands reaching back to his to stay connected. Garrus was going to remain coordinating with the Hierarchy and she was going to be courting the cameras, and that was their future.

She imagined Thane fussing over her fashion sense for a lifetime until he told her that she was stunning and she should not consider dying her gray hair and that the silver strands brought out her eyes. She wanted that, along with the gunfire.

She could have it.

She really could have it if she had the courage to reach for it and not fuck it up.

Garrus seemed equally stunned and thoughtful, and she looked at his face again, with his new blue. He smiled and said "I'm thinking of ways to smudge you."

She nodded solemnly and said "Hope that paint is dry."

He didn't make a move toward her, and sex was pretty far from her mind right now, because she was so damned happy and didn't have space for anything else. She smiled as he said "Yup, gonna smudge you so hard."

She laughed and a few moments later he joined in with his low, steady laughter, overblown come-on and all, like little children after a play releasing tension backstage, making faces. She said softly, almost disbelieving "We did it."

He nodded and said "We did it. Makes me believe we can do a lot of things. Things we haven't thought of yet. Together."

She took her shoes off carefully. They were works of art and Thane hadn't allowed her to dance in them more than once, having procured a stunt dress and a stunt pair of shoes to practice in, only allowing them for one pass to make sure they would hold together and so would she. The man thought of everything, forgot nothing. She wished she'd had his memory for this evening. She didn't want a moment of it to slip away. Solona had hired someone to video the evening and transmit it to the Normandy, so Thane had watched privately from their cabin, and other people had demanded they be able to watch, so a vid screen was up in the galley.

The flight was short, and while she was stretching out her toes, Garrus reached down and picked her up, reached down and took her shoes in one hand, and it appeared she would be carried back onto her ship. There was cheering, and a few people had waited in the bay, Jack with an ear-piercing whistle and hooting, Kasumi for once in full view, Tali and Kelly waving and jumping up and down.

If Tali had not asked about their voices…would any of this have happened?

No. No, it wouldn't have. This was truly a group effort.

Garrus didn't seem to be interested in putting her down, so she didn't try. They crowded into the elevator and he took her up to the Galley where Karin, Ken and Gabby, Joker and…Grunt…also started to clap.

The general consensus was beautiful to stunning to (from Joker) more jealous as hell, to kick ass.

She was absolutely inclined to agree, but she demurred with the excuse that her feet were killing her and couldn't stay, had to get out of the dress.

Jack said "Yeah, I BET you're getting out of the dress."

Tali put her hand on Garrus's shoulder and told him "You look so very handsome, Garrus. Some of us were not looking at the dress all the time."

Jane grinned and hugged her and Garrus pressed his crest to Tali's helmet and said "Thank you, Tali" with his warm voice that made them both happy. He turned back to head to the elevator, more hoots and well wishes and a few suggestions from Joker that made Grunt, of all people, say he should show some respect for his Battlemaster or he'd be steering the ship through a straw, which made…no sense…but made her laugh as the doors closed.

The pride in Thane's face held no undertone of being excluded, and she thought it was genuine. He was getting more comfortable around Garrus, around her, and allowing his constant facial vigilance to slip into occasional expressions of how he felt. She loved him for being proud, being honest, or manufacturing such a facial expression for them. She felt they'd all earned a few moments of pride in accomplishment, together, and her smile was wide.

He was director, costume designer and stage manager and he had heard the applause.

Garrus put down her shoes carefully on the desk, carried her over to Thane, transferred her into Thane's arms, and then took Thane's face between his hands and kissed him. Thane's fingers traced the paint on Garrus's face and Garrus pulled back and pressed his crest to Thane's forehead. Garrus said "We did it, Invas'nam." Invas'nam meant 'secret held so close to the heart that the tongue cannot reach' in Turian, and Garrus always said it with a deep shiver in the sub-harmonics, and it always led to a shiver in her spine.

Thane was without words, having seen and having understood. He closed his eyes and breathed with them and her arms came around both sets of shoulders.

The embrace broke and Thane turned his head to hers and said "I believe I will accept your invitation to dance."

She said in a decent approximation of his tone "Perhaps. If you conduct yourself well. I cannot have an inferior partner."

Garrus laughed and started to shrug out of his coat, saying "That's a yes."

Thane arched a brow ridge until she said "That's a yes."

Thane's half quirked smile was beautiful, and he swung her down onto her feet and started to pull the jewelry from her hair until he could comb out the curls and twists with his fingertips, turning her facing away from him so he could finish undoing his work, his promised right. During that time Garrus was out of his clothes but fully armored and now shining with the eye-catching paint. His slow transformation from outcast to authority was virtually complete except for the lingering surprise and fresh gratitude in his expressions and voice. He could live on a pirate ship, and love who he chose, and collapsed parts of him had new vigor, unmistakable in his carriage. She met his eyes briefly and she had only to gesture with a glance over her shoulder, attention on Thane, unwilling to let the dress steal the show. She had promised Thane he could take the dress off, but she hadn't promised to make it easy for him. Garrus gave her an incremental nod and a conspiratorial smile. The only person that hadn't gotten enough attention this evening, they agreed, was Thane.

She had a theory, and she was going to try it, and she was hoping to turn Thane into what she always was under his hands, helpless and compliant and drowning in too much pleasure. She could do it with Garrus's help, and knew she could whisper in Thane's ear and have it for herself anyway, but she wanted to earn it.

She thought…if she entered tiremit and Reverie with the mindset that she was entirely in control, she would be, that would carry on through the experience. She had to set the stage correctly, and she'd learned a great deal about theater lately.

When all the jewelry was gone and his hands were straying to the straps of her gown, she turned and smiled at him and said "You can't touch the dress. You can't touch me. I can touch you and Garrus can touch you." Her eyes flicked to Garrus behind Thane's shoulder and said "Will you take this man's clothes off for me please? And if he tries to use his hands before I say he can, make sure he can't use his hands?"

Garrus said a deep, warm "Yes ma'am" and started to take off Thane's jacket, licking at his throat. Thane's expression was…absolutely priceless. Half raised brow and surprise and…definitely appreciation.

It was a really good day.

She took her time and kissed him, hands to either side of his frill, fingers stroking. She said "You can touch Garrus all you want, but don't turn around."

She kept telling herself that she was in control, that they needed her to stay in control, and she felt buoyed and reinforced by tiremit. She heard his words in her head "Much can be accomplished with confidence, Jane." Damned right it could. Wouldn't it be nice if he had told her that tiremit worked this way. If she weren't so blissfully happy she might have spared an infinitesimal moment to be upset about that.

She tried to stay out of control with these two because she was in control so much of the time. Seemed fair that if she got to point and they had to shoot, they should be able to do their own pointing in their off hours.

But she wanted Thane to know he was wanted, sought out and she would go to vulnerable extents to prove it, as he did for them.

She leaned forward to kiss Garrus over Thane's shoulder, Reverie spilling into her dizzy and powerful blood, and said "Keep his mouth busy, will you, please? When you're done with his clothes?"

Garrus quirked a smile and saluted with another "Yes, ma'am" and she almost laughed, and did rub noses with Garrus, cool fresh paint texture. She said softly "I love that you are so agreeable."

She focused on licking at Thane's skin as Garrus exposed it, still careful with her dress, mindful of the panels and not snagging on bits of man, but let some of the edges of cold metal slide along his skin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the texture of his skin under her tongue, under her nails and fingertips, along his ribs and stomach. She was coaxing sharp intakes of breath from him, some from Garrus's hands, which had finished removing clothing. Garrus had the talons of one hand wrapped around Thane's waist, twisting Thane's head to the side with his other hand for a kiss that brought more sounds, muffled and reverberating through bodies. Thane's hand had moved back to dig nails into the edge of a plate on Garrus's thigh.

If she could get a whine…or …a squeak.

A Thane squeak.

She wanted one.

New mission objective.

No rush.

Every God and Goddess from Rakhana knew he'd gotten those sounds from her.

She suddenly wanted to know if he was ticklish. Yes, she wanted squeaks and giggles. She dragged her fingernails hard along ribs and there was a sound from Thane's throat that didn't make it to a squeak because he was kissing Garrus, but it would do. Her hands glided lightly over where his thighs joined his abdomen, arched ridges of muscle and curve of scale, her tongue and tickling fingers until he tried to move away but couldn't and there was that sound again, stronger and Kalahira, yes, this man was ticklish and it made her so very happy.

Her hands slid down the backs of his thighs to the crease behind his knees and more sounds. Garrus broke the kiss for a moment to say "She's evil. Gives me ideas."

Thane resisted but she went for one of his feet and sucked a toe into her mouth, dragging her teeth along the bottom.

Thane would have overbalanced backward if Garrus hadn't steadied him, so she savored some triumph here. Thane pulled back from Garrus and said deadpan "I will kill you both, in your sleep, if you do not stop."

Garrus tilted his head forward on Thane's shoulder and laughed, and she held onto his foot. She said "I think it's worth the risk. I have a goal, Thane. You have to squeak for me. Do that and I'll stop."

Thane sighed, the heavily burdened Drell among the barbarians, tilted his head back and produced a decent approximation of exactly what she sounded like when she squeaked. Garrus laughed harder. She put his foot down and said "You are…so accommodating. Both of you. Several dreams have come true today, you know that?"

Thane said "Please do not ask me to do that again." He was having some trouble not laughing, this time from relief and because Garrus's laugh was irresistible.

She said "All right. Once is enough. I'm not making you promise not to make me squeak, I'm the reasonable one here." She did not want to begin a tickle torture escalation war because she would lose.

Garrus became interested in running his talons over Thane's back and she knelt, pressed her breasts to his thighs and licked long lines along his cock until humor fled and voices turned to moans.

She reached her hand back around Thane's thigh and up to find Garrus's cock, slick and sliding along Thane's back, Thane's hand and hers meeting along the length. Intent to tease blurred slightly but stayed, hunger sharpened and twisted. Thane was trembling and twitching and she knew exactly how that felt, knew how good that was, hearing the rumble of Garrus's voice, plates and skin and helplessness.

It seemed impossible that she could ever be helpless again, but she could give it. She settled her hands, tight around the base of each of them, and squeezed, letting Garrus decide what he wanted to do. Hunger required that she close her lips around the head of Thane's cock and suck, licking away the taste of helpless Drell from his skin, replaced with more, so she took more. She closed her eyes and imagined what he'd see, wild hair and collapsed panels, glint of metal and gems, skin and devotion.

Sometimes in the fugue of blended bodies she forgot entirely that orgasm existed, because Garrus didn't have them and everything felt so good it served its own purpose. She took cues from Garrus, who was teasing and slow, entering by exquisite inches and that pushed Thane's cock deeper or throbbed a twitch harder against her tongue. She treated Thane as she would Garrus, no destination, no rhythm, just the pleasure of skin on tongue, hand on flesh and the unhurried pace of a Turian with strength and stamina unmeasured against smaller, softer skinned creatures.

This particular Drell's stamina was often beyond hers, but not right now, confidence being the key. She tasted until her hunger shifted, released her hands and mouth and kissed back up his body, teeth edges and lips and tongue in the dips and curves of muscle and skin. She took one of Garrus's hands and gestured for a talon, which she got. She slid his talon along her thigh until it hooked under the strap of her underwear until it sliced off. She gestured the talon away and guided his wrist until his hand was on her ass, then took one of Thane's hands and put it under the dress as well, kissed him and with her hands on his shoulders said "Up."

They lifted her and she used a hand to adjust the dress, slide his cock inside to a growl from Garrus, a harsh groan from Thane that she leaned forward to kiss from his lips. She set a pace and they moved with her, bliss and perfection with nothing missing. She was too slow to allow him to come, enjoying the flex of hands on her body, sounds and slides and motion. She moved until she was shaking, sweating. She had everything she wanted. She gazed down at her adored and said "Thank you for the dress. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for making them mine. Now I will keep my promise and the dress and I…belong to you."

He seemed stunned, still, and possibly clueless about where to go from a moment of perfection, until his eyes traveled over her. Thane reached to Garrus's other hand, brought it obediently to hold her up so Thane's hands were free. His mouth grazed the outline of her necklace, swept along the edges of the straps and his hands came to cradle her exposed waist, slipping fingers under the fabric, kissing the top curves of her breasts. His tongue explored around the twining arm bracelets and his hands shifted the dress by slow inches up her thighs, hands on her hips and then waist under the dress, smoothing the fabric up and over her head, tossing it over a chair, where it no doubt landed without injury but she didn't look and didn't care anymore.

He left the jewelry on.

He moved together with her, gentle rocking of his hips, his hand drifting over Garrus's and setting the slow pace, teeth at her earlobe and tugging on her earring, breath in her ear, along her throat. Tilting her head back she gave into dizziness with her hair trailing and tickling down her back. With his arm around her waist he tipped her back farther, suspended, open to his mouth and free hand that roamed over her, moving from exploration and adoration to hunger, drawing more moans and with a shift in his hips moving in and out of her and not with her. He shifted his hand around her waist until his forearm was along the line of her spine, hand cradling her head, gripping her hair, piston force of his hips growing insistent, then urgent. Garrus would adjust and shift, tips of talons re-emerging from his hands to dig into her skin, slamming them both back with a syncopated growl.

Thane slowed and Garrus with him, slipping his hand between them and stroking at her clit, the loss of momentum causing her to whimper and arch into his touch. They set her rolling from peak to peak, a long chain of driving lust and coaxing gentle strokes, until his hands went from trembling to shaking, until voices were hoarse and control of the balanced, sliding friction began to fail. She had stars on her body and with opened eyes, stars above, faces and gazes of her beloved. Thane pulled her up, hands and arms sliding over sweat-slicked skin and drove deep, names tumbling from mouths, heard by ears that couldn't understand, but hearts that would remember and redefine secrets held so close to them that the tongue could not reach.