Gas, Air and Rum:

N.J Jordbrukaren.

A/N: Things are about to get a little bit smutty up in here, so if you don't like that kind of thing, well, do some knitting?


Chapter Twelve: N7 Boxer Briefs Are Absolutely Essential.

True to his word, Jacob had taken her where he thought she needed to go. Whether that was actually true was another matter entirely. Shepard just felt like she needed a glass of water and a good old fashioned sit down. But, apparently, even on shore leave, there was no rest for the wicked.

…And she really was as wicked as they came.

It was quite something, sleeping with a beautiful asari and not being able to feel proud about it. Actually, that was a half-truth. Shepard couldn't help but smirk every time she thought about how she had taken Liara. Three and a bit years – three and a bit years of infatuation, lust and unrequited… love, only to discover it was not so unrequited after all. The very thoughts that had fueled Shepard's fantasies all these years were actually now a reality.

She had had Liara.

Possessed her so thoroughly that the asari had screamed for her. Because of her.

Shepard paused, gripping the railing besides Docking Bay D-24's exit airlock. Was she that drunk or was it something else? She shook her head, blinking unevenly.

Shepard really needed to sit down.


It was late, but never too late for the engineers. Retrofits were still ongoing. Very much ongoing, if the state of the Normandy's interior was anything to go by.

Shepard powered through the CIC, knowing exactly where she had to be. Jacob's advice had been sound, regardless of how drunk he was, too. But now was not the time. Decisions under the influence never worked in her favour, as recent events had very well proven. Despite how much they made her throb and clench…

Shepard had never been so grateful for her Spectre status. She was allowed to be on the Normandy, and no one could say otherwise. Or risk being launched from the nearest airlock. Engineers and specialists alike saluted her as she passed by. It was humbling in its own way. Knowing that, even in this current climate of war and destruction, command still meant something.

Or maybe Shepard was still too drunk.

That last one sounded about right.

She stepped into the elevator, feeling far too pleased at having hit the button for her cabin on the first try.


Shepard felt it before she saw anything. That prickling upon the back of her neck that told her there was someone in her proximity. She unlocked her cabin door, glancing around the luxurious space for a trace of them.

Spotted… oh…

"Traynor…?" Wearing nothing but a silky black robe. An incredibly short, silky black robe…

"Oh, Commander," She spun on the spot, datapad in hand. Shepard swallowed hard. Why was she surrounded by women who insisted upon making 'smart' look so incredibly irresistible? "I didn't realise you were…" Sam felt her heart lodge in her throat as Shepard approached her. The predatory look in her eyes almost made her melt into a puddle right on the very spot she occupied. She reached backwards, gripping the desk closest to the bed for support.

Shepard's dark gaze practically devoured her as she made her way down the steps. Sam licked her lower lip and Shepard had to resist the urge to jump her there and then. Caramel legs… had they always been so endless and… smooth? Shepard sighed. This was not how this was supposed to go. She came here to sober up. To have a moment. To think.

Now she couldn't think at all.

"That's…" Shepard frowned, taking another step closer. "Not regulation."

Traynor hooked her finger upon Shepard's collar, tugging her in for a hot, heavy kiss. Lips parted, tongues probed. As with most things, the Commander fought for dominance. They played no roles, but she was used to being in charge. Old habits were hard to break. Not that Sam minded at all. Traynor's fingers threaded into Shepard's hair, holding her close. She had missed this. The intimacy. The feel of Shepard. Simply touching her. Even her presence bolstered her. It was something Samantha both desperately craved and needed.

Her hands were everywhere. It was intoxicating. Their rough, calloused edges only proving to be a boon. Shepard pulled on the sash keeping Samantha's robe sealed. The silky strip untangled as if that were its sole purpose in life. Their lips separated as the robe was urged open. Samantha had always been modest about her body, but the way Shepard's gaze burned lines into her flesh made her forget about it. About everything really.

Powerful hands gripped the backs of her thighs, effortlessly lifting her so she was sat upon the desk. Samantha blushed at how instinctively she spread her legs. That was Shepard's doing. It was all Sam ever seemed to want to do around the Spectre. She radiated a kind of power that almost demanded it of her. She could see in the involuntary flexing of Shepard's muscles that the act was very much appreciated. Shepard stepped into the space in between her thighs, hands moving to rest atop them.

"I think you need to work on your dirty talk, Commander." Traynor admitted, rather breathlessly.

Shepard smirked, pushing the silk off of one of Samantha's shoulders, kissing the freshly exposed skin. She smelt delightful. She paused, pulling back slightly. "You had a shower?" Traynor bit her lip, looking away. "Without me?"

Sam laughed. Shepard loved her laugh. It was so… genuine. "There are a lot of things I do without you, you know."

Of course the great Commander Shepard caught the suggestive inflection in Traynor's tone. She narrowed her eyes. "Care to elaborate on that, Specialist?"

Sam bit her lip again. She pondered the question briefly. In reality, the statement was truer than she would like. But, perhaps one day, it wouldn't have to be. That thought gave her all the comfort and confidence she needed. Her voice lowered an octave, that familiar, seductively breathy tone returning.

"This…"

Shepard's eyes followed Samantha's hand as it withdrew from the back of her neck, tracing an unbearably slow path down her body that ended between Sam's legs.

Shepard's breath hitched as the other woman began touching herself. It was all for show, but the Commander cared not. Even less when Samantha released a soft little moan.

Sam's other hand shifted from her hair, gripping Shepard's shoulder. The bite of her fingernails was not at all unpleasant. It was the anchor keeping her tethered to this moment. And, god, Shepard needed it.

Perhaps it wasn't all for show. More moans, more whimpers tumbled from the smaller woman. Shepard felt herself burning up. She didn't think twice about removing her shirt, tossing it behind her. Traynor returned her hand to Shepard's shoulder, revelling in the flesh-on-flesh contact. And the sight of her impressive musculature. The way Shepard's toned abs twitched each time she made a sound was the fire within her veins.

"Shepard…" Sam's eyes were dark, anyway, but now they were more pupil than iris. She looked desperate. Shepard needed that. She needed her.

Sam felt the lips against her jaw, kissing trails here, there and everywhere. The teeth nipping at her earlobe. Her weakness. The hold she had upon Shepard's strong shoulder tightened. "I want you."

The only response Sam could give was a sob of frustration. Shepard had cupped the hand she had working herself into a frenzy, halting her. "Please-" If she could bring herself to care, Sam would probably feel embarrassed at just how needy she sounded. "I… I missed you so much. Now you're here and I… I want you, too." Sam whimpered. "I want you so much all the time."

That last part caught Shepard's attention. She retook her earlier position, gripping Sam's legs. She said nothing as she dropped to her knees, using her strength to pull Samantha to the edge of the desk. Shepard placed one of Traynor's feet upon her shoulder, pushing the other so it simply fell open.

Sam felt hot. Boiling, in fact. She was so exposed, and Shepard looked enthralled by what she had before her. The Spectre peppered kisses across the insides of Samantha's thighs, relishing in the way the Specialist's head lulled back, exposing pert breasts and the unbearably attractive sweep of her elegant neck.

Shepard couldn't take it any longer. She needed Sam as much as Sam needed her. Thumbs gently parted swollen, wet folds, exposing her further. And Shepard swore she could survive on the noises Traynor made, alone. It was a careful first brush, but the having Shepard finally where she needed her most was electric. The hand not keeping her propped up, threaded back into Shepard's hair.

Shepard could not believe just how badly she had overlooked Sam's beauty. The woman was perfect. She circled Sam's engorged bud, dragging a pleading cry from the woman so sincere that Shepard couldn't help but give her what she wanted.

"Shepard!" Traynor's lips parted in a silent scream, the fingers in her hair tightening.

Sam knew how wet she was. The chilled, recycled air of the cabin proved as much. She cursed Shepard for being able to make her this way. It was disgusting how aroused and wet she could make her with just one look, or with a single flex of her muscles.

Shepard placed the most reverent of kisses to Samantha's tip. "So beautiful." The way that she made it sound almost as if she was making an observation to herself drew another flood of wetness from Sam's core. And that certainly did not go unnoticed by Shepard. Before she could form a reply, that skilled tongue was back between her legs and, then, inside of her. Sam's breaths began coming hard and fast. The fingers in the Commander's hair relinquished their hold, instead moving to cup the back of her head, holding her close.

"Oh, god…" Sam gasped. "You're so… bloody hell." More moaning. Sam felt Shepard grin against her thigh. She was going to kick Shepard's arse for turning her into such a mess. Not literally, of course. Not that she'd be able to, anyway. Though, she'd love to try… if it turned into more of this.

Her thoughts cut short as Shepard's tongue returned to her hard ridge, flicking, circling and tracing. Sam removed her hand from the desk, using it to cup and knead her breast. Something Shepard highly approved of, if the loss of contact was anything to go by. Samantha cracked her eye open, glancing down at her gawking lover. Honestly, how had she managed to become a Spectre if she was so easily distracted?

"Ahem…"

Shepard realised her faux pas. "Oh. Uhm. You're just so…"

"Unsatisfied?" The dangerous way that the Spectre's eyes narrowed caused Samantha's insides to clench. "Please?" She knew that her pleading tone would hit the Commander hard. And she was right. She immediately went back to work. As did Samantha's hand upon her breast. Knowing just how much Shepard appreciated the sight was an added incentive. She pinched her own nipple just as that oh so talented tongue slipped back inside of her.

"W-What did I- ah! Do to… deserve you?" Sam's words were punctuated with alternating gasps and moans. Shepard pulled out, kissing Samantha's tender opening.

"I should be the one asking that."

Sam's mouth fell agape with a particularly good spot being hit. Shepard took note. "Hardly." Her tone was strained. She was close. "I…"

She couldn't finish even if she wanted to. Shepard replaced her probing tongue with her fingers, pushing them inside her lover with no resistance whatsoever. Sam gripped Shepard's wrist, chest heaving with pleasure at the unexpected sensation of being so thoroughly filled. She pumped the Spectre's hand experimentally before urging a third finger of Shepard's inside herself. The Commander watched, transfixed as the woman fucked herself with her fingers. She felt Sam begin to flutter around her, helping her along by re-introducing her tongue.

"I can't… oh, Shepard." She relinquished the Spectre's hand, deciding it best to allow her to use it herself. And Shepard did. Tongue tracing Samantha's bud, Shepard curled the fingers inside of her, hitting the place that always drove her to the edge. As suspected, Sam released a litany of moans, and a few "Shepard's". Velvety soft walls clamped down around Shepard's invading digits, holding her in position as Sam rode out wave after wave of intense pleasure. Her body thrummed, breaths coming fast and harsh. Shepard loved seeing her let go. Sam really was beautiful.

One final gasp signalled her final orgasm. She sagged back against the wall, still breathless. Shepard stood, dragging a whimper out of Traynor as the fingers still buried inside her shifted.

"Are you okay?" Shepard tugged the limp woman towards her, sighing contentedly when she draped across her chest.

"Regardless of the fact that Commander Shepard literally just shagged me senseless? Blissful."

Shepard chuckled, half at Sam's words, half at the way her voice was muffled against her chest. "Come here." Shepard, one arm behind Traynor's knees, the other supporting her back, scooped Sam up, carrying her over to the bed with ease. "Better?"

Samantha shrugged, pulling Shepard on top of her. "I think you are far to overdressed."

Shepard cocked her eyebrow. "Cabin rules?"

"My rules." She corrected. "You are always wearing too many clothes." Sam grabbed Shepard's belt, beginning to undo it. Next, she reached for the fly of her fatigues, copping a feel as she did so.

"I doubt any of the crew would appreciate me strolling around the Normandy in my skivvies."

"No, they wouldn't. Because you would still be wearing too many clothes." Sam offered the unimpressed Spectre a look that brokered no arguments. "My logic is sound, Commander. You can't bludgeon your way out of this." Sam opened Shepard's pants, revealing the N7 boxer briefs beneath.

Shepard grinned. "I can bludgeon pretty hard."

Sam cupped Shepard through her boxers, giving a self-satisfied smirk at the hiss she drew out of her. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second, darling." The heat she could feel radiating from Shepard's core was enough to bring on her second wind. She traced the damp patch with her finger, watching intently as her lover struggled to hold on to her usually unflappable self-control. "Having trouble…?"

"N-no." Shepard realised she had replied all too quickly. Damnit. "Maybe… yes."

Traynor tutted, making a haughty noise. She ran her hands up the struts that were Shepard's arms, fingers returning to their earlier positions in the Commander's hair. Sam brought Shepard down for a kiss so soft and gentle it shocked the both of them. "Shepard, please, let me in." Her eyes pleaded as much as her tone did. Samantha knew how stressed she was. She hid it well, but she could sense it radiating off her in waves. Not that she could blame Shepard. The threat of Galactic extinction tended to rattle people's cages and Commander Shepard wasn't infallible.

Shepard sighed, head falling against Sam's chest. She groaned when the hand cupping her pulled away, but never protested or put up a fight when Sam slid the same hand into her boxers. Traynor shuddered beneath her lover. The heat was even more intoxicating when flesh was on flesh. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Never in her wildest dreams would Samantha have imagined life bringing her here. Shepard was… so much larger than life. She wielded so much power. Influence possibly greater than that of the Council themselves. And, yet, here she was, in bed with the comms specialist. She was relieved, to say the least. There were far worse people to fall in love with or to be loved by. It was… a privilege, Shepard's love. A treasure. One Sam never intended to let go of.

"Sam…" Shepard moaned, thrusting forward in an attempt to claim more of her hand. The Specialist moved one hand to touch Shepard's cheek, the other continuing on its teasing path. She could feel the Commander's ragged breaths beating against her breasts. She really did need this.

Samantha slipped her fingers lower, stroking Shepard the way she knew she liked it. She too was wet. It was amazing to think she could affect Shepard in this way. That she had some element of power over the galaxy's most powerful inhabitant. She kissed Shepard's temple, relishing the way Shepard's arms flexed as she ground herself on her hand. Sam reached down, grabbing Shepard's ass, forcing her harder onto her hand. The guttural sound of pleasure she received in return was nothing short of mesmerising.

Traynor couldn't take it. She smoothed the damp, dark hair off Shepard's face, using her spare hand to drag her into a bruising kiss. Her fingers pushed further, slipping inside of Shepard. Sam moaned, reaching above her head to thread hers and Shepard's fingers together.

It was rapturous, the feeling of taking this woman. Claiming her. Shepard belonged to no one but her, which was especially true when Sam was buried inside of her. She soothed Shepard with soft coos and sweet nothings, watching as her jaw rhythmically bunched in time with her thrusts. She pulled the woman down again, letting her bury her face in the crook of her neck.

She was tightening. Reaching her culmination. It filled Sam with so much pride to know it was her giving Shepard this. Perhaps it was barbarian of her, to feel such a claim on Shepard. But Sam couldn't help herself. She curled her fingers, feeling her own core throb in sympathy. Shepard's pants and groans began increasing in pace. She was close. Samantha pulled her in for another kiss, whispering against her lover's lips. "Come for me."

Shepard didn't need to be asked twice. She completely unravelled, fist bunching in the sheet above Traynor's head, the other gripping her hand tightly. She shuddered as she crested, her thrusting becoming erratic. Sam knew she had her now. She held the Spectre close to her chest as the aftershocks passed through her, stroking her hair. Their fingers remained laced together as Shepard collapsed atop her, careful not to crush the Specialist beneath her weight.

Hidden by burying her face in Sam's breasts, she finally managed to let go. Traynor couldn't see due to her cover, but Shepard's face was one of distress.

What have I done? She hated herself for this. Sleeping with Traynor, then Liara, then Traynor again. It wasn't right, and it certainly wasn't her style. Cheating. That was the long and short of it. And now she had only made things worse. As if life wasn't hard enough already. I just keep building rods for my own back. What was Liara going to say? Should she even tell her? Did she assume this was happening, anyway? Shepard had successfully avoided the asari for the best part of a day. And that was a terrible thing to do, too. That had been Liara's first time and now she'll only associate it with being abandoned? Shepard, forgetting where she was, sighed.

"Darling?" Samantha shifted beneath her to look her in the eyes. "What's wrong?" The softness of her voice, the tender facial expression. It was all too much. Shepard was not a crier, but right now, she could really go for it. "Shepard?" She pressed, slightly more serious this time.

Shepard's heart seized. The air was stifling. She looked into Traynor's confused gaze. She choked.

"Kaidan kissed me." She blurted, instantly regretting speaking out.

Silence. It was somehow deafening. Shepard never thought there would come a time in her life when she would be scared of Samantha Traynor, but the blaze of anger behind her eyes…

"What?"


A/N: Not my best chapter, I know, but I'm working on it. Let me know what you think! And thank you to those of you who have already left reviews. Any feedback is good feedback!