AN: SPOILER ALERT: There was some discussion on the kinkmeme when I originally posted this about the sexytimes at the end of this chapter. I've given it a lot of thought and have decided to keep it the way I wrote it-I was happy with it when I posted it and I'm happy with it now. So, readers be warned-there's a love scene coming up.
Shepard typically went against the norms of modern society, but one of the few feminine things she indulged in was her title of undisputed queen of the kitchen. John pitched in occasionally when she was too tired but cooking, especially for lots of people, was her domain the rest of the time. She watched James, Joker, Jacob (the three J's, she thought), and her brother decimate the boiled cabbage, mashed potatoes, rolls, and baked chicken she'd prepared. Once all the dishes were cleared away and the leftovers put in the ice box, John took the three J's on a short tour of the grounds.
"Don't worry, we'll stay out of the barn for now," he whispered before he left. "It shouldn't be too hard to keep them away; they're only here for a few days, and then we'll take the crop to Anderson's. He's got more men on his payroll than we do, anyway."
"He'll want a cut," she said. It wouldn't set them back much, but they'd have to watch the budget a little closer if they outsourced.
"We can afford it, don't worry. Besides, you want three strangers working so close to that ship? All it takes is one slip, and the whole secret's out."
"You have a point. Hey, bring Garrus to the house once you've dropped off the boys."
"Will do." He kissed her cheek and led the J's out to the truck and the growling engine soon faded into the distance.
Shepard turned on the radio and cranked it up as loud as it would go, pulled on a pair of gloves, and began washing the dishes. She let her mind wander as her body went on autopilot; wash, rinse, dry, repeat.
Today while she puttered around the house and finished the little random chores that had been piling up, she couldn't stop thinking about Garrus. The novelty of the situation was partially to blame for that, but it wasn't until she realized she was trying to come up with reasons to go back to the barn that she began to think that maybe there was more to her feelings than simple curiosity.
As they were talking the night before, she found herself wanting to know about him moreso than about his species, his deep mellifluous voice soothing and, she had to admit, really sexy. The almost casual strength in those lithe limbs as he threw around the heavy chain and helped her tow the ship into the barn was impressive, too. Although the lines of his face and body were foreign, they were equally intriguing and she wanted to see more of them. Maybe she could convince him to take off his armor to find out just how far that armored carapace extended.
This lightness in her heart and the way her stomach flip-flopped when she entertained thoughts like that was something she hadn't felt in a long time, not since
(no, we don't talk about him anymore)
before the war ended. She hadn't expected to ever feel this way again, and the fact that she felt like this about Garrus was . . . weird and unexpected, sure, but exhilarating.
The song ended (she was so deep in her thoughts she had no idea which song it was), and the deejay broke in and announced the next one. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, it's a beautiful September night and we have just the thing here at WRVA to liven up your evening. This is Bill Haley and the Comets with 'Rock Around the Clock.'"
The drums rapped out the familiar intro and Shepard started singing along. "One-two-three o'clock, four o'clock rock!" She swung her hips and tossed her gloves on the counter, quick-stepping around the kitchen as she put the dishes away. "Five-six-seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock! Nine-ten-eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock rock, we're gonna rock! around! the clock tonight!"
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she squealed as John spun her around, grabbed her hands, and started dancing. She leaned back to the table to put down the glass she'd been holding and laughed and whooped as they danced into the living room. She saw Garrus watching from beside the couch; he had traded his armor for a form-fitting black and blue outfit and he looked on with a huge grin on his face.
John dipped her back almost to the floor, then pulled her up fast and spun her across the room until she fell breathless . . . right into Garrus. His arms went around her waist to keep her from falling and lingered there after the song ended. She laughed and held his upper arms as she caught her breath.
"Nice catch, big guy."
"I didn't know you could dance like that, Shepard."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," she retorted and as soon as it was out of her mouth she realized how suggestive that sounded. From the surprise that flitted across his face, he'd had a similar thought and her heart beat faster when his surprise turned to gentle affection.
"Gonna slow it down for you crazy cats—this one's 'Earth Angel' by The Penguins. Keep your dial on 1140 AM WRVA, spinning the hits 'til they tell us to quit."
She thought maybe Garrus would let her go once the song started, but instead he moved her arms up to his shoulders, laid his hands just above her hips, and they swayed slowly to the beat. Shepard looked around to see if John was watching, but he had gone.
She looked up into Garrus' bright blue eyes and the traitorous voice in the back of her head tried to convince her that this was wrong, this was a bad idea, what the hell did she think she was doing, but nothing it said was enough to make her leave the warm circle of his arms. His visor glowed with soft blue light and she saw a tiny light blipping on and off rhythmically. Blink-blink, blink-blink. It took her a moment to figure out that it was reading her heart rate.
Sneaky bastard, she thought and spared a moment to be embarrassed that he knew what his touch was doing to her. She reached up to take it off and her fingers brushed against his mandible. He closed his eyes and turned into her touch and her mouth was suddenly too dry, her knees trembling.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly.
"This," she murmured, taking off the visor and setting it on the coffee table, "is cheating." He gave her a small, rueful smile and took her hand, pressing it to his cheek. His skin was softer than it looked, stiffer than her own but pliant enough to give slightly under her fingers. He took off her bandanna and slid his fingers into her hair, running its length over his knuckles, his talons scratching lightly across her scalp. She closed the distance between them, the heat of his body seeping into her skin and making her flush with warmth and he threaded his fingers in her hair, cupped the back of her head, and bent slowly down to kiss her. His lips were much more flexible than they looked and he teased her mouth open, his tongue brushing lightly against her lower lip. The pace he set was slow and agonizingly sweet and his arms held her close as they explored each other, tasting and touching until her head spun.
He broke the kiss and backed up just enough to look at her, and his eyes were full of a need she knew was mirrored in her own.
"Garrus, I . . ." She clamped her eyes shut as if speaking the words hurt. "I think we're . . . rushing this a bit."
He stroked her cheek and she peeked up at him from under her eyelashes. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. No rush, no pressure." He lifted her chin so she had to meet his eyes, the fire there banked down to embers; still present, but not all-consuming. "Do you want to stop?"
She chuckled and traced the edges of his chest plates through his shirt. "God, no, but I need to think about this first. Being horny is not conducive to good decision-making, and there are a lot of reasons not to do this." Finally, you listen to reason! said the traitor voice, and she mentally bitch-smacked it for its smugness.
"You have a point. We could both have an allergic reaction to each other and die, and then what would John do?" He clutched his chest melodramatically and she laughed, the tension slowly ebbing away. She kissed his cheek one last time and excused herself to go take a shower. Maybe a cold one, she thought.
Garrus watched her go up the stairs and sighed. Shepard's reluctance was probably the right thing, but that didn't stop him from wanting to follow her up and kiss her again. Spirits, she was so soft and smelled so amazing; her scent was all over him and it was making it very difficult not to throw caution to the wind and indulge his baser instincts.
He fit his visor back over his eye and stepped out onto the porch, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. The sun had set and it was dark enough that he thought he was reasonably safe from prying eyes. John was leaning against the railing with a longneck bottle of beer dangling from his fingers, staring out into the yard. Fireflies, the summer's last stragglers, glowed yellow and green in the gathering night.
"Hey, Garrus." The other man took a sip of his beer and Garrus took up a spot next to him. After a long pause, John said, "So, you and my sister, huh?"
Garrus flinched and glanced over at him, but couldn't make out his features. "How much did you see?"
"Just the way you two looked at each other when you were dancing." Garrus started to explain himself, but John held up a hand to stop him. "Look, far be it for me to get in her business, but I'm still her big brother. I've been looking out for her for a long time now, and if you're really going to pursue her then there's something that you need to know." He paused for a minute to gather his thoughts, then said, "Did she mention that she was married before?"
"No, she didn't."
"This would have been about, let's see . . . she met Kaidan about twelve years ago and they got married as soon as she graduated high school. He enlisted in the navy not long after that, and he and I ended up serving in the same unit, the V Corps. The war was just about over by that point, but of course we didn't know that." John paused for a moment, taking another long pull of his beer before continuing. "Anyway, one day the orders come down that we were going to invade Omaha Beach, Normandy. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it say that day was one that I still have nightmares about. My men, men I'd known for months, who had families and children back home were torn apart and left to die on that beach. It was the most brutal thing any of us had ever seen. Kaidan made it about fifty paces before he took five machine gun rounds to the chest. I stayed with him until he died, and the last thing he did was ask me to take care of Jane."
Garrus had no idea what to say to that. He remembered reading a little about the Battle of Normandy, how it the Germans suffered a major defeat there at the expense of over 200,000 dead, wounded, or missing Allied soldiers. It was counted as a victory, but the amount of carnage must have been terrible.
"I wrote the letter myself, telling Jane that her husband was dead. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but the thought of her having to read one of those generic 'We're sorry for your loss' letters was too much to bear. As soon as my tour was over I retired, took the money I got from the GI Bill, and bought this place. We've been here for about ten years now, and it's taken most of that time to get her to open up again. She'd been doing a lot better, but when you showed up . . . Garrus, this is the happiest she's been in years. Part of that is finally getting the answer to that age old question, 'Are we alone in the universe?' But part of it is you. I'm not stupid, I see the way she looks at you. I never thought I'd see that look on her face again."
John set his bottle aside and regarded Garrus with a serious expression. "I'll be the first to admit that I don't know much of anything about you, but my gut tells me you're one of the good guys, alien or no, and it's never been wrong before. All I'm saying is that if you really care about her, then I won't stand in your way. Hell, seeing her happy again is enough for me to forgive you just about anything. But I don't think she can stand another heartbreak, and I sure as hell don't want to have to pick up the pieces."
They were silent for a long time after that, and Garrus started really thinking about what getting involved with Jane would entail. He was stranded here for now, but it wouldn't be long (maybe another two days or so) before he'd get that transmitter working again and someone from the Fearless would arrive to take him back. He would likely never get the chance to see her again; the recon missions he usually went on lasted no more than a few hours, maybe a day at most. What kind of relationship could possibly come of that? She couldn't come with him, the Council would never allow that, and he couldn't stay here because he'd starve to death and he couldn't risk being seen by other humans. There weren't a lot of options for them. It wasn't fair—he'd finally found someone he truly cared a great deal about and he couldn't be with her.
On the other hand, if they only had a few more days together, he wanted to make the most of them. He'd have to lay everything out on the table and let her make the decision, and he would live with her choice. It was the best he could do until he could figure something out.
"I appreciate your telling me that, John," he said finally. "I can't promise anything, but for what it's worth I do care about your sister and I'll do my damndest not to hurt her."
John smiled and clapped him on the back. "You do that. Because if you do, I'll have to fix that ship of yours and come after you myself."
The next morning found them sitting down to breakfast as the sun rose. The weather was beginning to turn and Shepard had donned a sweater to stave off the chill in the air. They'd have to start chopping firewood in earnest soon; there was already some stacked next to the house inside the screened-in porch that was well-seasoned, but it wouldn't be enough to carry them through to spring. She and John started making plans and designating tasks, and it was decided that she stay in the house to start the winterizing process. She was just trying to remember where they had put the strips of plywood they used to seal off the porch when there was a crash from outside.
"That'll be the trash cans," she said, rising from the table. "Damn dog. I don't get why Anderson doesn't lock that mutt of his up."
"At least leave the shotgun this time," John said, and she shot him a look. "Jane, you can't shoot the dog."
"Yeah, yeah." She stepped into a pair of rain boots (after checking them for bugs; the last time she'd forgotten to do that she ended up with a slug squished between her toes—yech) and went outside. The trash cans were lined up along the west side of the house and one of them was knocked over, a mid-sized brownish-gray lab and collie mix standing over the mess. Its shaggy fur was matted and damp, and it was poking its nose into the pile of apple cores that had spilled out onto the ground.
"Udina!" she yelled and clapped her hands. The dog startled and barked at her. "Don't you give me that, Udina, you get out of here now." When the dog made no move to go, she gave it a light swat to its rump and it ran off. "Go on, shoo!" She sighed and started clearing up the mess, trying to decide if she should call Anderson about this or just build an enclosure and hope that kept the dog off their property.
She was headed back into the house when she heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and her heart sank. Please don't let it be them, please, not right now. She barreled into the house and ran to the living room windows. John was already out of his seat and moving to the back door, and Garrus looked thoroughly confused.
"Who is it, Jane?" he asked, a tense edge creeping into his voice.
Please don't let it be-
Fuck.
"It's Henrico County police," she said. John muttered a string of curses and pulled on his own boots.
"I'll go to the barn and disable the still. Christ, I hope they don't have a warrant. Can you see who it is?"
Shepard cupped her hands to either side of her face and squinted through the glass. "It looks like Kenny Leng and Sid Lantar."
"Oh, Jesus wept . . . all right, keep them talking, I'll be back as soon as I can." He took off silently across the field, keeping to the path they'd worked out that would keep him hidden from view all the way to the barn.
"Shepard, is everything all right?" Garrus asked as he came to stand next to her. He stayed away from the windows, for which she was grateful, and he looked ready for action.
"Remember when I told you we make moonshine here, and it isn't strictly legal? Well, these guys have been trying to bust us for years. They come by every once in a while to make sure we're behaving, and so far we've been able to stay one step ahead. Lantar isn't so bad; I think he'd actually be a good cop if he wasn't partnered with Leng. That guy . . . he's something else. He's had it out for us like we killed his grandmother or something, but he makes sure to never do anything we could report him for. And he's a racist son-of-a-bitch to boot."
"Sounds like a real charmer," said Garrus with a sardonic twitch of his mandibles. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Not really." The two cops were getting out of their cruiser, Lantar shifting uncomfortably and Leng wearing his characteristic self-righteous half-smile. "Just stay in here and try not to let them see you." She took a deep breath and began her mantra-I will not scream at the police officers, I will not scream at the police officers-then went out onto the front steps to meet them.
"Morning, ma'am," Leng drawled. "I hope you're doing well."
"Mmm hmm. Why are you here, Officer Leng?" She knew her extreme displeasure at their intrusion was plain on her face, but they deserved and expected it by now. Sid Lantar hung back a little, looking everywhere but at her.
"Just making my rounds, thought I'd pay y'all a visit and maybe take a look at that still of yours. Make sure it's still OOC." His eyes swept over her and she had the sudden urge to take a shower. God, she hated him, and he knew it.
"We've been over this before; unless you have a warrant, I'm gonna have to ask you to get off my property."
Leng's eyes drifted across the field to the house where the J's were staying. The three men were currently milling around outside, getting ready to start the day. Leng's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared and she knew he'd seen Jacob.
"Looks like you found some hired hands. That's lucky, this late in the season. Although, I suppose it's easier when you're willing to hire a nig—"
Shepard was suddenly down the steps and in Leng's face before she'd even made the conscious decision to move. "You should think long and hard about whether or not you really want to finish that sentence," she hissed through gritted teeth. Leng's half-smile disappeared and with the pretense stripped away, Shepard saw the true face of the man. He went still and his eyes turned dark and dangerous, almost predatory.
"You threatening me, girlie?"
"Of course not, Officer," she said, her voice thick with anger. They stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity before Leng's smile returned and he scoffed.
"All right, Sid, let's go." They went to get back into their cruiser and Leng gave her one last leer before ducking into the car. As they backed down the driveway, Shepard saw Lantar staring wide-eyed past her at the house—at the windows, where she could just make out the glow of Garrus' visor. If not for that, he would have been invisible. Oh, no, she thought as her stomach twisted into knots. She hoped like hell Lantar hadn't seen anything, but if the look on his face was any indication . . . Shit.
She trudged back into the house, shut the door, and leaned back against it with her eyes shut tight. This was entirely too much to have to deal with before noon. How much had Lantar seen? Would he tell Leng, and how much would he believe if he did?
Shit, shit, shit.
Garrus touched her shoulder and she looked up at him with weary eyes. "You did well out there," he said. "I probably would have shot him."
Shepard laughed and even to her it sounded harsh and strange. "Oh, I wanted to. He loves to push my buttons, though, and I hate that I allow him to get to me like that." She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and groaned. "I think Sid Lantar saw you."
"I was afraid of that. While you and Leng were facing off, I admit I got a bit . . . protective and came too close to the windows. I don't think he got a clear view, but . . ."
"Yeah. No way to be sure how much he saw." She took his hand in hers and ran her thumb back and forth across his knuckles, wondering if calling a hard-edged turian adorable for wanting to protect her was in any way appropriate. Probably not. "I think next time they come by, I'm gonna post you on the roof with that sniper rifle of yours."
He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her temple. Shepard was having a hard time thinking of anything other than his unarmored chest right at her eye level. "If they do come back, I'll have your six, Shepard."
She wanted to tell him then exactly how he affected her, how much she liked the idea of having him watching her back. In another moment she might have, but the back door opened and John came in, tugging off his boots and anxiously mussing his hair. She and Garrus resumed a more casual pose as he came into the living room, and she thought she saw a sly glint in his eye when he saw them standing there, in all probability looking guilty as hell.
"So, did Captain Asshole give you any problems?" he asked, electing to take the high road and make fun of her later.
"She almost punched him in the face after he insulted one of your men," Garrus said proudly.
"Did she?" John asked, his eyes shining with glee. Shepard rolled her eyes; she was in for the ribbing of the century later.
"It was really no big deal," she said, "he was just being himself. He's not backing down, though, so we'll have to be careful from here on out."
With the crisis averted, John went out to start on the harvest with the J's, Garrus headed upstairs to get to work on the transmitter, and Jane was left to putter around the house. It was nice to get her hands dirty and work out some of the anxiety and anger that had settled on her shoulders after the encounter with Henrico's finest.
While Shepard worked downstairs, Garrus sat at the sewing table in the guest room fiddling with the metal and wires before him without really seeing them. He would have the transmitter finished by tonight if everything went well, and the pain that caused him made him wonder just what had happened to him in the short time he'd been on this planet. He respected the humans for their tenacity and strength that was so different from his own; turians were all raw power and relied on their force of arms to win battles and assert themselves among the galactic community, but humans had evolved much differently. Their fragile bodies were surprisingly durable in extreme conditions (they certainly handled the cold better than turians did), and their species as a whole possessed an indomitable will to conquer their surroundings and thrive rather than adapt to them. He couldn't help but admire the fact that they were apex predators in their own right, but the idea that he could be attracted to one had never occurred to him. He'd worked among the asari long enough that he could appreciate the appeal—all those curves and flexible limbs had a certain aesthetic value—but he'd never wanted to be with one of them the way—
The way he wanted her.
Spirits, he was a terrible turian.
For turians, a lot of their worth was inexorably bound to their abilities as a soldier, and Garrus was one of the best in his unit; his strategies and tactics were sound, he could hit a target at 2,000 meters, and was a strong leader. Shepard didn't know that, and she treated him like an equal anyway. That was the crux of it, he thought. To be liked simply for who he was, to be seen as an individual worthy in his own right—that was something he hadn't had for a very long time. What he felt for Shepard wasn't love, not yet, but it had the potential to be, and he surprised himself with just how much he wanted that. He wished like hell that there was some way to stay with her; he told himself it was impossible, but . . .
An idea had begun to form in the back of his mind last night. There was a chance, if he played it right, that he could make this work but it would take time and a lot of luck. If he pulled it off, though . . . no, best not to get his hopes up just yet. He couldn't even get started on that until he'd gone back to the Fearless anyway, but it was worth a shot.
Light footfalls on the stairs pulled him out of his thoughts and he glanced out the window. The sun was setting already, painting the clouds pink and orange, so different from the blazing sunsets of Palaven. He froze, waiting to see what she'd do. The footsteps stopped right outside the door and he could practically hear her thinking. Her feet shuffled and she took a step toward her room and he thought maybe she'd leave, but then there was a quiet knock on the door. He let out the breath he'd been holding and tried to make it look like he was concentrating on the transmitter when he said, "Come in."
She entered and stood by his chair to watch him work, and the display on his visor showed that her vitals were spiking. It made him feel a little better to know that she was just as nervous as he was.
"Just give me a second to wrap these wires," he said and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat and will his stomach to be still so he could keep his voice steady. When he was finished, he turned around and he watched as her heart rate kicked into high gear when his eyes locked on hers.
"How's it coming?" she asked, pointing at the mostly reassembled metal box on the table. The glowing characters on it had changed from red to blue, which she assumed was a good sign.
"Luckily, the ship had everything I needed. I only have a few more adjustments to make before I can send a distress signal to theFearless." He turned a little in the seat and his knees brushed against hers. "But, I don't think you came up here to ask me about that, did you?"
She shook her head. God, why was it suddenly so hard to talk to him? It was like he took all the air out of the room. "I've been thinking a lot about us." He gently moved a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, and her breath caught in her throat. "I know the chances of this—whatever this is—continuing after you leave are slim to none. You've got a home to get back to and I've got a life here, and I know I might never see you again." Garrus was crestfallen, but he didn't let it show. He had promised himself that he would honor her decision, and he intended to stick to that. Which was why he was so taken off guard when she put her hands on his shoulders, leaned down to his upturned face, and continued, "But you know what? If this time is all we're going to get, I intend to make the most of it." Those last words were whispered against his mouth just before she pressed her lips against him, eliciting a small, pleased moan from him when her tongue slipped out and met his.
He reached out and pulled her down into his lap, her legs on either side of his, and he slipped one hand up under her shirt to touch the skin of her lower back. She breathed a sigh into his mouth and started kissing and licking her way along his mandible. His skin smelled like warm leather and gun oil with a hint of something like sandalwood that she couldn't quite place, combined into a heady scent that she thought she'd be happy to drown in. She ran her tongue along the soft skin along his jaw, on the underside of his mandible and he shuddered against her, his talons tensing slightly. She suddenly realized that if he wasn't careful he could easily cut her skin to ribbons, but rather than deter her that edge of danger just made her need him more.
Her fingers worked up his neck and found a patch of skin between his neck plates and fringe that felt remarkably like her own. She massaged it experimentally and he arched against her and growled, his chest rumbling against her body and sending shivers straight to her groin. Suddenly he pushed her away but before she could ask what was wrong, he was pulling the snaps on her shirt open and covering every inch of exposed skin with eager hands. She wriggled out of the sleeves and unhooked her bra, and he fumbled with the clasps on his shirt for a moment but finally managed to get it off and tossed it into the growing pile of clothes. He didn't know what she would think of his body once she saw it—they were so vastly different from each other, after all—but she hesitantly touched his bare chest and traced along his plates and the more sensitive skin between.
Garrus was torn; he wanted this (by the Spirits, he wanted this more than anything), but for all his reading about human history, a tutorial on female physiology had been conspicuously absent. Now that he'd gotten this far, he realized he had no idea how to proceed. She seemed to sense his dilemma and smiled, then stood up and started unbuttoning her jeans.
"You know, I just remembered," she said, pulling the zipper down slowly, teasingly. "During question-and-answer time, not once did we ask each other what we liked in bed." She hooked her thumbs under the waistband and pulled down both her pants and underwear, the fabric sliding slowly down her legs to the floor, and she stepped out of them. His eyes were drawn to the curved lines of her body, the way her waist curved in and down over her hipbones, the graceful arch of her collarbone, the turn of her ankle. Shepard took his hand and pulled him up so he stood before her and she tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling his hips against hers before drawing him down for a kiss. "What say we remedy that, hmmm?"
His blood was practically on fire and he felt himself stiffening inside his groin plates. "Oh, yeah. I'd like that."
"Show me what else you like, Garrus." Spirits, if she kept saying his name like that he was going to have a hard time controlling himself. He took her hand and placed it on his waist, and she squeezed the thinner plates there experimentally. The rush of heat that spread though his body made him gasp and his plates loosened a little more.
"Like this?" she asked and he nodded wordlessly with his eyes shut, gripping her upper arms for support. "And I already know about this one." Her other hand went back to the underside of his fringe and his knees trembled as the waves of pleasure washed over him. With a glance between his legs, she watched as the head of his penis emerged, cerulean blue and tapered at the end. She brought her hand down from his fringe to tease along the edges of his pelvic slit. His breath was coming faster now and he took her hand, showing her how to slip her fingers inside his plates and rub the moist, spongy flesh there. His erection was fully exposed now, thick and curved and textured with tiny bumps and ridges. She curled her fingers around the base and squeezed lightly, then moved slowly back and forth, his little gasps and moans urging her on. This, at least, was familiar enough, she thought with a smile.
Garrus' hands grazed over her shoulder blades and traced the valley of her spine down to the curve of her hipbones. For someone who looked so outwardly soft, she was sheathed in the strong musculature of a woman used to hard manual labor. The way her skin stretched over her frame as she moved was mesmerizing and incredibly sexy. He had to have more of her.
He scooped her up suddenly, laid her on the bed, and climbed up over her. He buried his face in her neck to taste her, running his tongue over the smooth taut surface. She gasped as he licked a long, hot line up along her jaw and under her ear, his mandibles fluttering as he took the lobe into his mouth and nipped lightly.
"My turn," he murmured and she shivered in anticipation. "Show me how to touch you." His breath ghosted across her neck and in her ear, and she had a hard time figuring out how to string together a full sentence.
"Right here," she said, moving one of his hands to rest on her breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple and she arched into his touch, so he moved down her body, his tongue and teeth questing down over her clavicle to her chest. He cupped her breast and mounded it up, then all at once pulled her nipple into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. Shepard moaned and clung to his fringe, pulling him hard against her. His tongue was like a live wire electrifying her skin and sending hot currents through her body to pool with a wet heat between her legs. He scratched lightly down her hip and along the outside of her leg and she lifted her knee to give him more room to maneuver. He got the hint and circled around to her inner thigh, and his talons dimpling her skin was just as delicious as she thought it would be.
"You smell so good," he said, his breath warm against the wetness he'd left on her nipples. "I want to know what you taste like." Garrus looked up at her across the expanse of her chest and the hunger in his eyes made the muscles in her stomach quiver. "Is that something that humans do?"
"Yes," she whispered, not quite trusting her voice.
"Would you like me to?" he asked, laying a kiss on her sternum.
"I think I might actually die of disappointment if you don't," she answered and he laughed softly.
The mattress creaked as he scooted down and settled himself between her legs. She had hair here, too; it was darker red than that on her head, and trimmed short. He teased along her thighs and outer lips until she was panting and writhing with need.
"Please, Garrus," she moaned. "Just . . . hah . . ." He spread her open with his thumbs and ran the flat of his tongue up her pussy. All coherent thought was blasted from her mind under his ministrations and all she could manage was "more" and "harder" and "oh god, right there." He rubbed circles over her clit while he tongued her opening and she bucked her hips, gripping the headboard, the pressure building faster and faster. With one last flick of his tongue, white stars exploded before her eyes and she came with a gasping cry, calling his name.
She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until Garrus kissed her; she could taste herself on his mouth. His erection pressed insistently against the spot he'd paid such wonderful attention to; she was still so sensitive that just that touch sent aftershocks through her.
Garrus breathed into her hair, inhaling the scent. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless until they broke the bed, but she had a point—if this was all the time they'd get, he wanted to get the most out of it.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. "Still with me, big guy?" Instead of answering, he touched her forehead with his, guided himself to her opening, and pushed . . . slowly . . . in. All those bumps and ridges were coaxing wanton moans from her, and when he was fully sheathed in her warm, wet pussy he hooked her knee over his arm and pulled it up almost to her chest.
"By the spirits, you're so tight," he growled.
"Then move for me, Garrus." She rolled her hips up to meet his and he moved with her, quickly finding their rhythm. Shepard was back on the edge soon, that familiar euphoria hovering so close as he rocked his hips into hers, panting and moaning and grasping, his talons just barely pressing into her skin. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss rough enough to bruise her lips, and the last of his control was stripped away as she cried out into his mouth. He drove into her and bit her shoulder, fighting the urge to sink his teeth in and mark her. Shepard clutched his cowl like it was the last thing between her and oblivion before going tense and moaning his name through gritted teeth as she rode the crest of her orgasm. Her muscles clenched erratically around his cock and he thrust one, two, three times before roaring his own release, muffled against her neck.
His arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but he managed to kiss her one last time before pulling out and collapsing onto the bed. She stretched languidly, running her hands over her body, savoring the warm glow that came with really great sex. Her thighs rubbed together and she winced; so, there were drawbacks to being with someone with what amounted to a carapace. Garrus noticed her pained expression and saw the angry red skin between her legs and on her lower stomach.
"I—I'm so sorry, I had no idea—" Shepard put her finger over his mouth and shook her head.
"Don't even think about being sorry for this." He looked like he still wanted to protest, but she just moved closer and kissed his mandible with a smile. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone has made me feel this amazing. A little chafing is well worth it."
"At least let me put something on it," he said, and retrieved a small jar of a clear jelly-like substance from his bag under the sewing table. He scooped out a dollop of the stuff and put it on the worst spots; it was cool and took the sting away almost immediately, leaving her skin tingling.
"What is it?"
"Medi-gel. It's good for practically everything, and I always keep a good supply. I've used it to patch up everything from minor burns to gunshot wounds." As someone who had known people to die from relatively small injuries and infection, medi-gel seemed like nothing short of a miracle to Shepard. Her skin was already going back to its normal color.
"So," he continued, "since you mentioned it, just how long has it been?"
"Wow, you just jump right in there, don't you?" she said with a grin. "Hmmm, let's see . . . well, there was this one time about three years ago, but he was an asshole so that doesn't count. So, I'm gonna say . . ." She hesitated, knowing how it would sound. "Ten years."
Garrus was quiet as he took in that admission. "John told me about Kaidan. I hope you don't mind."
"No, I probably would have told you eventually. It's just . . . it's still hard to talk about that." He pulled her close and she rested her cheek against his chest.
"No boyfriends since then?" She shook her head, her hair tickling his chin.
"It wasn't a conscious decision or anything; I wasn't trying to stay true to his memory by avoiding relationships. My mother is still convinced that's what I was doing." She sighed and tried to figure out how to continue, and Garrus stroked her hair in silence, waiting. "I just never found anyone else I was interested in, is all. There were a few men over the years who were good enough for one or two nights, but the spark just wasn't there."
"And now?" he asked. She shifted away from him and propped herself up on her elbow, regarding him seriously.
"Garrus, there are so many things standing between you and I that I've lost count. Any kind of future for us is a long shot at best." She smiled and kissed him then, the barest touch of lips against his. "But if there was a way, I would take it. I'd forgotten what it was like to feel really connected to someone until you fell into my life."
"Shepard . . . Jane . . . What would you say if I told you I think I know a way we could have that future?"
Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she dared to hope. "I'm listening."
He started to lay out his plan, and that hope took root and started to grow into something more firm and sure; something that could become the rest of her life if she went along with it, and she decided right then and there that she really, really wanted this. It would be time consuming and relied a lot on luck, but the prize . . . that would be worth every ounce of effort they would have to put into it.
"So, you really think the salarians would be willing to do that for us, too?" she asked once he was finished explaining. "I mean, it obviously didn't work out so well for the krogan."
"The krogan society is built on blood. Every single adult male is a blooded warrior," Garrus said. "Humans go to war, too, but your culture isn't centered around it. I think that if we can show them what humans have to bring to the galactic stage that the Council will agree to uplift you."
"That word makes it sound like they'd be scooping us out of the primordial soup or something." She sighed and sat up, and Garrus traced circles on her lower back. "They'd have to be careful," Shepard said wryly. "People around here have a hard enough time dealing with people with darker skin; the idea of what someone like Leng would do to someone from another planet is terrifying. What if it sparks a war? That would not end well for my people."
"Don't worry about it yet, we don't even know if the Council will grant me an audience. It'll take time and a lot of convincing, but I think we have a shot at this."
"I hope you're right."
He pulled her back down and bumped her forehead with his. "Of course I am."