Pushing forward, folks.

Waking up in an unfamiliar place was disorienting. During the early days of the war, Miranda was constantly moving. Without the protection of the Normandy, without Shepard, she had been forced to. Cerberus was constantly hunting her. She knew their secrets, maybe not all of them, but enough to be a liability, enough to cause The Illusive Man to fear her. She also suspected agents employed by her father to be pursuing her.

Too many nights in a single location was a risk. The longer she remained, the more clues Cerberus had to follow, the more time they had to find her. So she moved frequently, often doubling back to cover her trail, leaving false leads. She would make contacts in one system with no intention of ever heading there, hoping to confuse her stalkers.

She slept whenever she could find a time and place of relative safety, and when she awoke, it was always with a start, her hand tensing around the sidearm she kept next to her head. Often times, she would have to mentally trace her trail back to remember where she was: an abandoned apartment in the Citadel, a room on Omega that rented by the hour, in one of the extravagantly manicured parks on Thessia.

This time when she awoke, it was no different. But absent were the usual flushes of panic, of confusion. She was comfortable, and it eventually returned to her that she was in Shepard and Liara's bed.

It was comfortable, as far as beds went. The sheets were soft, the pillow firm but not hard. And she wasn't alone. Breasts pressed against her back, a chin rested on her shoulder, an arm around her waist. Miranda's backside was flush against a cradle of hips, legs tangled. The mattress caved slightly to her front, and slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

Shepard lay on her side, facing her, head propped in her hand, gazing down at the sleeping women beside her. Fingers raked through Miranda's hair, and she resisted the urge to shut her eyes again.

"Morning," The commander said quietly when she saw that Miranda was awake.

"Good morning." She had thought about this moment, more than once. Perhaps more accurately, she had dreamed about it. Especially during the war, her subconscious mind would play cruel tricks with Miranda's desires. She would dream of her and Shepard, together, intimate, sometimes in a naked tangle of limbs and sweat, in a heady shriek of passion. Her head on Shepard's chest, holding her close, knowing safety and respite in the strength of her embrace. Only to wake up alone and cold, with the terror of the Reapers still bearing down upon her, the constant dread of another day of running replacing what had been a moment of peace, underscored by the shame of wanting something she had no right to.

But this time she was awake, Shepard was there and the Reapers were not. If Shepard understood the gravity of the realization, she did not indicate so. Instead, she tucked an errant tendril of hair behind Miranda's ear. "I like your hair pulled back like that."

It was such a… boringly normal statement, that Miranda had to stifle the laugh that escaped her so as not to wake the asari behind her. "What?"

The commander's face was serious, as if this was a point she had been contemplating for a long time. "You're always beautiful. But when you wear your hair like that… it's so much more human. It's like there is a part of you only I, we, get to see."

"I only tie my hair back when I sleep, Shepard." Miranda said, amused. Her heart turned over on itself to hear the commander make such an intimate observation about her. "But it isn't a fashion statement. I hate having my hair in my face when I sleep."

"Precisely. It might be practical, but it's…" Shepard's brow furrowed as she attempted to put her ideas into words. "But it's also so… normal, so ordinary. And the vast majority of her waking life, Miranda Lawson, is never anything remotely ordinary."

She rolled her eyes despite the blush that colored her cheeks. "Commander Shepard, the romantic."

"Miranda Lawson, the skeptic." The commander leaned closer, a curtain of auburn falling into her face. "Shut up and let me say something nice."

When Miranda kissed Shepard this time, it was with feral abandon. It was as if she was drowning and Shepard was the oxygen she was so desperate for. It still slow and languid, but with teeth and tongue added to lips. She felt a groan low in her belly as Shepard slipped her tongue past Miranda's lips. She clutched at the front of Shepard's tank top, pulling her closer, wanting to feel more of her mouth and lips and hands. A hand that rested on her hips, a thumb that found its way under the waistband of her boxers, stroked the bare skin there.

Gasping, Miranda pulled back, her hands still tangled in the front of Shepard's shirt. Her breath was quick and shallow, and her hands ached to lose themselves in Shepard's hair, her body screaming at the loss of contact, her lips protesting the absence of her lover's. "We're going to wake Liara."

"She's already awake." Shepard grinned and ran her thumb over Miranda's hip bone again.

Miranda had not felt the asari stir at all, but a kiss to the back of her neck confirmed Shepard's words. "I don't know how you always know." Liara tightened her embrace on Miranda, the arm around her waist pulling her back into the asari's hips with greater pressure. "Please do not stop on my account," Liara's voice was a seductive whisper right below Miranda's ear, and her vision blurred.

The previous night had been innocent. Shepard and Liara had taken Miranda to their bed, but the caresses had been affectionate, exploratory, loving. Desire had simmered just below the surface accompanied by restraint. They spent the night reveling in the novelty of closeness, of exploring unfamiliar bodies, acquainting themselves with touch.

But there was no denying the throb of yearning now. Miranda did not suppress the sharp intake of breath that escaped her when Shepard claimed her lips again. Liara's lips were on her neck, her shoulder. A hand, she did not know whose, traveled beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers splaying against her stomach. All feeding the growing swell of need between her legs.

Her fingers ran through Shepard's hair, fisting at the base of her skull. In her weaker moments, she had always wondered what it would feel like to rake her fingers through auburn hair, wondered what the texture would be between her fingers. A part of her marveled at now knowing that Shepard's hair was soft, smooth, almost fine, slipping through her fingers like liquid. The realization sent a thrum of emotion rising in her chest, swelling in her throat. She ignored it and kissed Shepard more deeply.

Impatiently, she lifted the bottom of Shepard's tank top, her hands seeking out bare skin. Liara ran her fingertips down the length of Miranda's arm, following her hand. Miranda broke the kiss with Shepard, who immediately fixed her lips and attention on Miranda's neck and ears. Rolling onto her back, Miranda captured Liara's face between her hands and pulled her down to kiss her.

Having a threesome, an actual threesome in practice, not fantasy, was something that she had never actively thought about before. She expected it would be more clumsy than sexy. The mere logistics of sex with three partners might ruin the spontaneity of it. Then there was the concern that each partner was treated equally, with no one being neglected, but she was surprised to find that she was blissfully wrong. Perhaps since Liara and Shepard were so experienced with one another, they knew each other's habits and body language.

They moved together equally. When Shepard wasn't kissing Miranda, she was kissing Liara. And when she kissed Liara, the last thing Miranda felt was left out. She watched, simultaneously amazed and somewhat embarrassed by the physical effect of watching them kiss had on her. She moaned aloud as Liara's tongue darted out, swiping the commander's lower lip. Of its own volition, Miranda's hand cupped the asari's ass and pulled her into her, creating a slight pressure where she needed it. And then Shepard was on her again, removing her own tank top while straddling her, tugging Miranda's sleep shirt over her head.

Clothes were shed slowly, revealing new expanses of skin to touch and kiss and explore before the next article could be removed. Until they were naked, and Miranda lay her body on top of Liara's, feeling the slickness of Liara's need against her thigh causing her to moan aloud again. She felt frenzied, her passions awakened by not one but two women, and she wanted them both, needed them to touch her, needed them to complete her.

Liara rolled her hips, lifting her own thigh slightly to make contact with Miranda's center. For a single, delicious moment, there was the pressure she needed, and Miranda fought the instinct to grind against the asari.

The movement must have had the same effect on Liara because she shuddered and gasped. "Goddess…" The exclamation perished on her lips and ended an exhalation of the word.

Pleased with the reaction, Miranda slowly moved against her once, causing another shared gasp. She watched the asari's face, blue eyes half-lidded with arousal, lilac lips moist and slightly parted. A part of her mind registered Shepard's hands on her sides, on her hips, but at that moment, she was singularly focused on Liara. "You are beautiful," She said as if realizing it for the first time. It wasn't. She had noticed long ago that the asari was attractive, but then it had been an objective observation. Now it was a truth, a desire, a recognition deep within herself.

Liara placed her hand on the back of Miranda's neck and pulled her in to kiss her brutally, leaving no doubt in either's mind that the feeling was mutual. Miranda's fingers traced the ridges in her crest, discovering the asari liked that. She also learned that the skin where her neck met her shoulder was particularly sensitive to Miranda's lips and teeth.

The frenzy of their discovery slowed to a quiet thirst with time, and Liara caught Shepard's hand to pull her alongside of them. Shepard did not appear disappointed by being left out; her gaze was openly hungry, nearly predatory.

"Roll over," Shepard said softly, the first words that had been spoken for a long time. Miranda was reluctant to break physical contact with the asari but did so. As if reading the commander's mind, Liara scooted so she was propped against the head board and tugged Miranda so that she was seated between her legs, her back pressed against Liara's front. One again, Miranda felt the heat and slickness of Liara's desire, only against the base of her spine this time.

With a tilt of her head, Shepard looked past Miranda at Liara as if asking a question, and Miranda felt the asari smile. After kissing them both again, Shepard lowered herself between their legs, and Miranda admired the ripple of hardened muscle as her arms bent and flexed. The pace slowed from desperate and frenetic to calm and unhurried.

Trailing kisses up the inside of one leg, Shepard stopped just short of the apex of Miranda's thighs before traveling down the opposite leg. Blue fingers teased Miranda's nipples erect, and she felt a similar pebbling of the asari's against her back. Miranda squirmed, desperate to feel more of either of them, but neither showed any interest in quickening their pace.

It was maddening, and Miranda's fist clenched in the sheets in frustration. She wanted them, both of them. But now they were handling her gently, lovingly with teasing, soft kisses and gentle strokes. It was if she was made of porcelain. Didn't they understand that if they handled her so carefully that she would break? It was too much, the implication of their emotion too clear. It was not enough; she needed more, more contact to drown out the clarity they were forcing on her.

Even when the commander dipped her tongue between Miranda's legs, it was not enough. Miranda cried out, her head falling back onto Liara's shoulder. She ran her fingers through Shepard's hair again to pull her closer, to pull her mouth into her, but Shepard resisted, continuing her torture slowly.

"Dammit, Shepard!" Miranda growled, exasperated. And she felt Shepard smile against her which was even more infuriating. "Please…" It died in a whimper as Liara's teeth drew the lobe of her ear into her mouth, sucking, nipping. "Please…" Her hips bucked against Shepard's mouth, her lips, her tongue trying to create more contact, more delicious pressure, but the commander stilled them by placing a hand on either hip.

"Embrace eternity?" It was a question, not a statement this time. And after a brief moment of hesitation, Miranda nodded.

For a moment, her vision swam and the bedroom dimmed. Miranda closed her eyes to focus. The ache between her legs tripled, the mounting need of two other women compacting her own. She tasted herself on Shepard's tongue, felt the smoothness of her own skin under Liara's hands. Shepard entered her with two fingers, felt the stab of pure lust between Shepard's legs, at the back of her eyes, as Miranda clenched around her fingers. She felt the vibration of a moan in Liara's chest.

Somewhere, in the haze, she caught a ghost of apprehension, of uncertainty. Without questioning, she knew it was Liara and without explanation she knew why. Shepard was the only person she had ever been intimate with, and while she was not inexperienced, she wanted Miranda. More, she wanted Miranda to want her.

Craning her neck, she captured Liara's lips in her own, seeking to quell the asari's insecurity, to reassure her, and into that kiss she poured all the desire and passion she felt. In turn, she felt the doubt melt away into nothing, replaced by renewed want.

Shepard's fingers curled inside her, and she cried out into Liara's mouth. She felt their love and lust wash over her, and she surrendered herself to feeling.

When she came it was with a cry of release, and with it the release of every suppressed feeling and pain of the past several years. At once she felt the darkness of every lonely moment, the yearning, the shame, the fear, the ball of tears stuck in her throat, the knowledge that she'd never be hers, the agony of that knowledge. She had been holding onto those feelings for so long that they had become part of her. And in one instant, they were ripped away from her like the cry from her throat. Her restraint broke, shattered by the gentle persistence of Shepard and Liara's lovemaking.

She arched against Liara, into Shepard's mouth. She felt the echo of her own orgasm as it seized the other two women. Liara stiffened, her thighs clenching around Miranda. Shepard moaned throatily against Miranda. The pleasure cresting and subsiding into a dull ache.

A strangled cry escaped Miranda's throat before she could stop it, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Liara's arms tightened around her waist and Shepard rose to her knees to wrap her arms around both women, if a bit awkwardly given their positions. All the feelings she shoved, buried deep down, all the times she had never cried bubbled to the surface.

The tears were mostly silent, escaping Miranda's eyes no matter how often she blinked, occasionally wracking her shoulders. But just as she was surrounded physically by the two other women's comfort, she felt their compassion and reassurance envelop her through the meld. She was swaddled by understanding and love so intensely, that it drowned out all the nagging of doubt and insecurity.

"I'm sorry," Miranda laughed ruefully and wriggled to free her hands from the embrace to wipe her eyes. "Of all the incredibly unsexy things to do. Cry."

She felt Liara and Shepard's presence fade and intuitively knew that the meld had been withdrawn. It was easier to focus without the clutter of minds.

Shepard smiled at her, tears glistening in her eyes, making them appear infinitely more green. "It's okay." She leaned forward, kissed Miranda's lips, then her forehead. "It's a lot to feel, at once."

"Sexual activity can be a cathartic experience." Liara murmured against her shoulder. "There were many emotions you have tried not to feel or express for a long time. It is natural that the intimacy you feared you would never have would bring them to the forefront."

"Still…"

Using her arms to pull her forward, Shepard collapsed next to them on her back, stretching out. "Still nothing… it happens."

"The commander wept our first time… after the war." Liara said, shifting. Miranda turned and sat back on her heels so that she could slip down from the headboard and lay next to the commander, who crossed her arms behind her head and stared at the ceiling.

"I did. When I returned to Earth, I was so sure it would be… I was certain that I was going to die. When I left Liara, that last time, that was it. I was making a decision to leave her and go fight a stupid war that I wasn't going to come back from. But I did. And I didn't expect to, so when we… when we were finally together again." Her voice was hollow, and Miranda reached out and touched her, wanting to comfort her. "It happens, Miranda. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all have feelings, and sometimes they get the better of us."

Liara rolled over and kissed Shepard. "You did come back to me, to us."

Shepard hooked a finger in Liara's collar and brought her down for another kiss. "Of course I did. I'm hard to get rid of. Miranda?"

"Yes?" She had been watching the exchange, and also tracing the curves of two bodies. Shepard was lithe, almost lanky. She was well-muscled, but still underweight compared to her pre-war physique. She had the body of an athlete, tight skin stretched over hard muscle, like a panther. She still had a woman's body, but the curves of her hips were more subtle. Liara possessed a more distinctly feminine body; her breasts were fuller, her hips slightly more broad. She was toned, fit, but with more weight in the right places, Miranda noted as her eyes followed the curve of Liara's back to her ass.

"Miranda?"

"Yes?"

Both the commander and asari smiled, amused. "Our eyes are up here, Miss Lawson." Shepard teased and extended a hand to her. "Lay with us. We've already missed breakfast, and damned if I'm getting out of bed any time soon." Miranda took the hand offered to her and felt herself pulled so that she lay with her weight equally distributed on top of both women.

"I was appreciating the physiques of both of my… girlfriends." Miranda did not like the label; it sounded so juvenile, as if they were all still in grade school. It also seemed insufficient for what they actually were to each other. "And I won't apologize for it."

"Neither of us would expect you too."

Miranda laid her head on Shepard's chest, closed her eyes, and listened to the steady rhythm of the heart she had painstakingly reconstructed, twice. During Project Lazarus, she had listened to her heartbeat through a stethoscope, monitoring it for abnormalities, murmurs. It was a fantasy so old she had forgotten its origins, to press her ear to the commander's chest, to hear the thrum of her heart.

Shepard must have seen the small, involuntary smile that crept onto her lips. "Hear something you like?" Her voice was a rumble in her chest.

"Hmm, yes." Miranda replied. "I do good work, commander."

Again, many thanks to my beta for helping me navigate the clusterfuck of my own mind. And if you have time, leave me a review. They make me happy.