A/N: This chapter is exceedingly short as it mainly deals with adult content I can't/won't post here. If you want to read the whole thing, you can find it on AO3, Making Good by Minque.

The kiss wasn't his finest. It was harsh and needy, a crash of lips and a gasp of surprise that he took advantage of. She tasted of asari elasa, 'Sorrow's Companion'. Bitter, sharp, cloying. He usually avoided the stuff, hating how it burned ice instead of fire down his chest, but Shepard was all heat and he wanted to taste it, taste her, more. Her fingers fluttered at the edge of his waistband, body rigid even as she explored his mouth with her own tongue. Shepard, always in control, even when this was the perfect time to lose control.

While one hand drifted south to grab a handful of Shepard's ass and grind himself against her, the other curled in her hair. A soft moan left her as he turned her head to trail kisses and nips along her jaw and down the neck he'd stared at too many times. Her pulse beat a staccato against his lips but it was that damn strawberry shampoo that undid him. He bit, hard, and the tension in Shepard snapped. She pulled at his shirt, seeking skin, and he smiled as he soothed the bite with his lips and tongue in apology.

'No marks,' she ground out as she raked nails across the sensitive skin of his waist. 'Unprofessional.'

'Okay,' he said, even though the idea of her walking around with a bite mark others could see made his cock twitch.

His fingers slid blindly, expertly over the clasps and buttons and zippers of her BDUs. They were no different from his, whenever he bothered to wear them, which wasn't often. She was feverishly hot from a biotic's fast metabolism and her skin was smooth except for the gunshot scar she hadn't erased. He didn't fully believe the story about Chakwas having better things to do. This wasn't the only wound he'd seen her get and he hadn't seen any evidence of those ones. But he wasn't going to pry, not right now.

He never thought he'd see Shepard so undone, a halo of red hair messed by his hands and lips swollen from his kisses. A slight swivel and a few steps back and she was against the curved wall of the aquarium, blue light rippling across her. He dropped to his knees, worshiping the hard-earned muscles of her abdomen, a reminder that she was as much weapon as woman. He pressed a kiss to the scar, and her hand brushed through his hair in a gentle caress that held more sweetness than demand. Caray, when she did that he could almost believe that this was going to be more.

He stopped his thoughts from going down paths he hadn't dared walk even in his dreams. Soon the bottom half of her clothes joined the top half on the floor behind him.

When James woke, it was to stars instead of the bunk above his in the crew quarters. The night's memories filtered back. Híjole, he had sex with Shepard. Multiple times. He looked down at her using his shoulder as a pillow, hand curled on his chest and leg thrown over his under the covers. Even in sleep she frowned. He smoothed a thumb over that faint line and she made a small hum of protest. Her eyes cracked open and she stiffened against his side. A second later, she relaxed again and rolled over, taking her warmth with her. Sensing movement, the holographic clock lit up, faint orange in the darkness of the night cycle. Just before 0400.

'Two more hours,' she mumbled and fell asleep again with her back to him.

This was awkward. His arm was trapped under her head. Was he supposed to spoon her or leave? He stared at her back, weighing the consequences of both actions. She hadn't told him to leave, but her rolling away from him suggested he should. He brushed away the sting of dismissal. It was just sex. Flirting followed through.

Her breathing evened out, and he gently pulled his arm from under her. He slipped off the bed, trying not to jostle it too much, and hunted for his clothes. Cold seeped into his feet from the tiles, but he avoided making noise clomping around her cabin in his boots, instead balling up his socks and stuffing them into his shoes. He slid on his boxers and pants and pulled his shirt on but nonetheless shivered. Her room was always arctic.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at her curled up in the rumpled bed. In the dim light thrown by the aquarium, her red hair stood out against the white sheets and her pale skin. He almost got undressed again to climb back in the bed and wake her up with his tongue. But whispers of doubt wheedled their way into his mind, like they always did when he thought about acting on whatever this spark was with Shepard. It was just flirting, just fun, just his way. It was nothing.

He left.