Liara was particular.

It wasn't her fault, and he never minded it. It was her body that was discerning, and he'd learned through exploration, through trial and error, a hundred different things she didn't like.

She didn't like to be pinned, or on her back, or more precisely, pinned between him and their bed. It wasn't about feeling out of control, or vulnerable, but he was heavy, heavier than before and it made her feel trapped.

Liara hated feeling trapped. It wasn't always logical. She knew he would never do her harm, but he knew to leave that space for her whenever she would forget herself and pull him on top of her, demanding his body press against her own. She didn't like to be held down, or have a hand on her throat, even playfully. It was more about feeling degraded. Liara hated feeling degraded. He'd learned by whispering to her as they made love, sweet things, dirty things, and once went over a line he never knew about, when he'd become too possessive, too aggressive in his verbiage.

He'd learned from it, and learned a hundred other things Liara didn't like in bed. But in his studiousness, he'd learned a hundred things she loved.

More than anything, Liara loved to be loved. It was a thirst that could never be quenched, in a way that made Shepard desperate to provide her more and more.

She loved to be touched gently, carefully, like she were made of precious glass, like she'd shatter if too much pressure was applied.

She loved to be adored. He'd learned, when she'd shiver in his arms as he whispered close to her aurals, his cheek brushing against hers, words like "beautiful", "perfect", and "always". He'd hold her tightly, and admire her quietly, softly, endlessly until she'd shudder against him and call out his name. Sometimes he wondered if she could reach these heights from words alone.

And Liara liked a hundred little things too. She liked him to be unhurried, thorough, she liked being touched everywhere, without exception. Her fronds at the base of her neck were so sensitive that the feeling of his hot breath whispering near could draw her to the edge in an instant. Shepard could hardly run the tip of his nose against her, and she would be just there. She liked to be passionate, and present and aware of each touch, each word, each glace. It reminded him of who she was in all facets of life, obsessive, meticulous, exceptional.

Liara also liked to be in control, though she'd never admit to it. It didn't matter, he handed it to her willingly. She liked the way he'd surrender, how they would become intertwined, superimposed, almost instinctively, like he'd been waiting, wishing for it. She liked holding them close to the verge, one step away from falling over the cliff together, drawing out their pleasure for as long as possible, knowing the opportunities to exist in this place were further and fewer between.

He'd learned that she could be more herself, be more relaxed when only free hours lay ahead of them. He'd learned that when he planned for this, on nights like this, she could allow herself to be a little languid, to take as much time as she wanted.

Nights like this, where she sat naked, her back pressed against his chest, their legs in tangles in the sheets, his hands delicately running against her belly, her breasts, her legs, like she was an exquisite musical instrument and he a composer. Her head lolled against his shoulder, his frame half a head taller than her own, as he brushed his lips across the sensitive spot at the base of her neck.

"I love your skin." He murmured, knowing he was driving her mad. "It's soft," he pressed his lips against her neck, and held her close as she shivered. "It's beautiful," he continued, punctuating every adoration with a kiss along the graceful line of her shoulder. "It's perfect," his mouth came to rest beside her aurals, "like you."

"John." His name fell out of her mouth, slow and lazy, and Shepard thought he might die right there. He loved when she used his real name; a rare and extremely personal moniker that he thought had perished long ago. "John, put your mouth on me."

He smiled against her shoulder, her hands atop his own as they stroked down her legs. "Where do you want my mouth?" He hummed teasingly, knowing exactly where she wanted him.

"Goddess," she half choked, half sobbed, "you're so mean."

"I just want you to show me."

She huffed what little breath she held in a laugh, and guided one of his hands to the back of her head, where her crest met the base of her skull, where she was protected by rigid frills, where she wanted him to brush his fingers and press his lips and his tongue against her.

She held his hand there and gasped, his lips softly meeting her fingers and brushing them out of the way. She shuddered and almost arched off him then, her other hand pushing his against the hard expanse of her stomach.

"I got you." He whispered, replacing his lips with a feather light stroking of his thumb. "I got you. Too much?"

She exhaled deep and swallowed. "No."

"Keep going?"

"Goddess, yes."

This time, her hands let go of his, one reaching to the back of his head, desperate to latch onto the short hairs there, and the other, reaching behind her to feel his arousal for herself.

She smiled to herself when he lost his concentration on his ministrations at the base of her skull. "Oh god – Liara."

She continued to stroke him, slowing when she could feel his body hot to touch behind her, his breathing heavy and laboured. His forehead came to rest on her shoulder, his hands winding their way down between her legs, looking for a reprieve.

"Too much?" She said, mischievously, nudging him to look her in the eyes.

"No...maybe."

She laughed, a soft and teasing thing, "Don't worry. I'll go slow."

"You're mean." His voice was low, a growl, playful but determined. She responded by kissing him, chaste at first, then sexual, purposeful, easing the tension and reminding them both of their equal footing.

Before long he'd resumed behind her, her skin becoming electric and hot to the touch. It wouldn't be long before he'd feel it, before she'd feel him, before they became entwined. There was no equivalent for humans. Each would give and take what they could, selfishly or unselfishly as determined by their personalities and their relationships. With Liara, he found himself wanting to give, endlessly, knowing the pleasure it brought her, feeling it for himself. He wanted only to please her, to be this source of fleeting joy for her.

"Goddess, Shepard. John, kiss me." His hands jolted into place, one firm on her breast, the other splayed against her back and shoulders, his thumb expertly thrumming where his mouth had once been. Her lips rest on his, her mouth half slack open in a soundless cry. One hand stroked him faster while the other held his mouth to hers, desperate to drown out her moaning. The energy cracked between them, the superimposition nearly complete. She shouted his name again and again, as the energy surged and burned through them both.

Shepard held her close to him, pressed her against his chest again, snaked his arms around her torso and kissed her back and shoulders thoroughly as her breathing and her heart rate slowed. She liked to be held this way. Her body relaxed into him, melting into his touch as he laid them both onto their side. It took her a while for the room to come back into focus, to steady herself, to find her words.

"I love you." She told him, her voice cracking and weak, her throat a little sore. She had used her voice moments before, quite loudly, quite uncharacteristically. Liara was different that time, which is why it stuck in his memory. Liara was always under control, always conscious of who could be watching, listening. She was quiet, reserved, and thoughtful to a fault. It allowed him to steal moments away, in dark corners or where the walls were thin, knowing she would be comfortable in her secretiveness, in her silence.

The moment she had cried out, here tonight, was euphoric, like a shot of adrenaline to his heart, it was everything he needed to hear and to see, to assure him she was still with him, that she was still his. That everything in their life to this point was just a stumbling block, that all the grief and hardship was conquerable, that their lives could and would be normal when all of this was over.

Closing his eyes, he pulled her closer, and she turned in his arms, blue eyes finally meeting his. She looked content, and that made him loosen his grip, remembering his tension would bleed through to her.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly, soft fingers stroking his freshly shaven cheek. Another thing Liara loved was the smell of his shaving soap.

"I'm thinking about you." He told her, his hand striding down to her hip, his thumb tracing small circles there.

"What about me?"

Liara loved to be praised.

"About all the things you like in bed." He smiled, lazily.

"Oh." She said, mockingly intrigued. "What do I like?"

And sometimes Liara liked to be playful.

He licked his lips and grinned, pulling her gently and shimmying down her body to kiss the flat plane of her abdomen. "I heard…" he kissed her navel and she stilled, just another place and way she liked to be kissed, "from a very reliable source…" he worked his way down her body, pushing the sheets with him, "that you like it when I use my mouth." He looked up at her, his teeth shining a 1000 watt smile.

"Hmm. I suppose I can't convince you to…" she jolted when Shepard lifted her bodily and spun them around and positioned her to straddle his hips. "Reveal your sources, " she finished.

"Nah. Loose lips sink ships, T'Soni."

She laced her fingers in his, and pulled him upright. His arms encircled her waist and she draped hers around his shoulders.

"How loose are those lips of yours?" She taunted, playfully. She got her answer when he pressed his mouth to her breast, his tongue attentive to her most sensitive areas.

"Pretty loose." He mumbled, kissing the valley of her breasts.

"Shepard." She whispered, warning him not to start something he could not finish.

"You're so beautiful, you're the best person I know. In this whole world."

"Shepard…"

"It's true." He stilled, and locked eyes with her. "I love you more than anything. I want you more than anything."

She smiled, a small and tired flash across her face. It was sadder than it should have been in that moment, but he revelled in it nonetheless. As much as Liara loved to be praised, he loved to praise her.

"I'm yours." She told him simply, and leaned her forehead to rest against his own. "I'm yours."

As she kissed him softly, the worry both of them felt vanished again. Safe in each others' arms for a few hours more.