Author Note: Thanks again for all the reviews/faves/watches! They make me smile.
Just a note that this next chapter has some rough sex in it. Nothing non-con/dub-con but I wanted to give a warning in case rough sex is triggering for anybody. If it is, just skip on to Chapter 7.
I do not own Mass Effect.
Mascara makes Shepard feel powerful. Same with the boots she saves for special occasions that zip up to mid-thigh. It's like the armor Zaeed puts on every day, even though he's semi-retired. The appearance gives you power.
And Shepard deserves an award for her appearance four hours later at the Blood Pack base. Approaching it like she just can't wait to let Garm inside her. Her coat pockets are filled with medi-gel, her gun is loaded but she doesn't seem to give a damn about her fate as she strolls in.
Not when Vorcha chatter and hiss around her, taunting.
Not when they follow while a Krogan guard leads her down the hall.
Not when he pushes her into Garm's dark bedchamber.
"So, Shepard finally visits." Garm stalks out of the shadows like a vid villain. "Zaeed tells me I finally impressed you."
She smirks and puts a hand on her hip. "Mm. After you took care of that menace…well I knew you'd be satisfying."
Garm laughs. "Yeah, I took care of him real good." He grabs her wrists and pushes her onto the bed.
Shepard touches his chest as he looms over her, sliding her fingertips downwards. "Tell me how."
He hesitates, caught between lust and the Krogan compulsion to brag about victories. Even fabricated ones. Cultural needs win out. "That Cuttlefish tried to ambush me when I was returning to my base. Alone of course. I don't need my men around to fight my battles." That, she believes. "He tried to shoot me first. He's handy with that rifle."
"Was. Was handy." she murmurs, kissing his shoulder. "You took care of that."
"I did." Garm thrusts his claws into her hip until she gasps. "Don't you forget that I killed him."
"But how?" She sees the pleasure in his eyes when she flinches at his claws. He twists them in her wounds and his breath quickens when she can't hold in a curse. "No mauling, Garm."
The other claw finds her shoulder, pins her down. "You'll live, Shepard. I got him down from his little perch. In close combat, he's nothing. Was nothing. I tore him limb…" He pulls his claws from her hip and sinks them into her thigh. "From limb."
"Good." Fuck. She lifts her head. "Ground rules, Garm. I'll do anything you like but when I say stop, you stop or you've got a dead girl on your hands who can't come back to fuck you again. And you're wearing a condom."
He sneers and she grabs his cowl, jerking him down to bash her forehead against his. It's weak from her limited range of motion but effective. Garm nods.
"Fine Shepard. Anything I like."
Once she's put the condom on him, he gathers blood from her puncture wounds and coats his member with it. With one hand he flips her around, one arm wrapping around her stomach as thrusts into her ass. She doesn't hold in her yelp because he likes it and she needs him lulled and satisfied.
They stand as he pumps into her and his claws slide down her belly to slip into her folds. They scratch her to the brink of calling for a halt but she remembers Garrus, remembers her medi-gels.
The need to breed and breed and breed when with a fertile female was a biological instinct for Krogans even before the Genophage. After it, that need is sharpened. He comes against her and she slumps, catching her breath. A minute passes and he's hard again, barely able to control himself while she changes the condom. The moment its on he's pinning her on her back and shoving into her front. Shepard doesn't know if she's feeling pleasure or pain. Or if she'll walk after this.
Garm recharges again as Shepard removes the second condom. He grabs the back of her neck and pushes her to the ground. Her knees slam into the hard floor.
"Suck me off," he growls. "Without the condom."
"No," Shepard shakes her head. "You're wearing the condom."
"Anything I want, you said." She ignores him and puts the fresh condom on. You don't argue with a Krogan. You just act. He acts too, pushing his cock against her mouth like the Batarian from earlier. Was that only a few hours ago?
The third time does it. He sighs and collapses back onto the bed, groaning. Shepard sits on the floor; bleeding, torn, sore and waiting for Garm's breathing to even. It's clear from his words that he's either not sure if Archangel's dead or that he knows the vigilante is alive. She needs something more than hearsay though. Something that makes touching him worth it.
He falls asleep. She stands, biting her lower lip so hard it bleeds. It would be easy for her to strike right now. To take her gun and shoot him. To find something sharp to put in his throat. That wasn't her original plan. Shepard had only meant to get intel and get the hell out.
But it's so tempting to make him pay for what he did to Garrus. If she had a bigger gun, she might be able to pull it off before he could retaliate. Sense wins over anger and she channels her steady rage into moving.
In the bedside table drawer is a datapad. It's too easy. There can't be anything on it. And there isn't. Just a couple of shipping records. Everything else has been cleared. She copies the info anyway onto a pocket drive. Maybe it'll be useful to Garrus later.
Garm's room is Spartan in furnishing. If this even in his room and not some weird, hooker guest room. When she does bed Krogans in their own home, they always have a little cache of treasures. Or gigantic piles of trash they call their treasures. She's seen images of Tuchanka with bases to put packrats to shame. Shepard keeps up her slow trek, running her hands along the wall.
Aha. A corner panel feels loose against her hands. She jars it loose, wincing as it clatters against the wall.
Garm stirs. Shepard freezes.
Garm rolls away from her side of the room and settles back into his coma. Her heart keeps banging against her chest so hard she worries it will wake him again.
There's a datapad amidst the rest of Garm's keepsakes (a pile of Fornax, a chunk of stone with Krogan carvings, a bleached skull that's probably Turian). It's password protected and takes her three tries to crack it. Her shaking hands don't help much.
The password is "Fuck Aria." Probably jealous that the Asari could squash him in a moment.
Inside the files is a wealth of info. She skims it, unable to suppress a grin. Time flits by as she becomes absorbed in the intel. When she remembers to check the clock in the corner of the screen, a half hour has already passed.
Shit. Shepard downloads the files, getting antsy as the data takes it sweet time transferring. In her rush, she nearly rips the pocket drive out without pressing the eject button the screen. The datapad goes back into the treasure trove. As she pops the panel back into place, Garm is stirring again.
When the Krogan sits up, she's back on the floor applying medi-gel to her torn nethers. She can feel his eyes on the exposed flesh of her neck. Wonders if she can put enough force into shoving the spiked heel of her boot into his throat.
Easy, she tells herself. Just get out and get to Garrus.
"What are you doing?" He demands, the bed squeaking as he moves closer to her.
"Healing," she says, forcing a light tone. "Then I'll be out of your way."
Garm gets off the bed and steps in front of her, ripping the gel out of her hands. His lips curl back, exposing his sharp teeth. "You'll walk home bruised and marked by me. That's what I want."
"Anything you want," she says with a wink. Standing is harder the second time, when her body was shutting down from the relief of resting. The gleam in his eye spurs her out of there before he's ready to go again.
She got what she wanted. He's never getting near her again.
Outside the base, after she loses the trailing Vorcha, she finds a safe place to tend herself. Most of her supplies go below to the worst wounds. The puncture marks decorating her body have scabbed over but she lost a lot of blood in Garm's bed. And plenty more that he gathered to use as lubricant.
She can deal. She can survive this. Right now, she's got business to conclude.
Sidonis and Erash let her through. Shepard stumbles into the loft and Sidonis hurries to keep her upright. He guides her to his leader's space, one hand pressing against her lower back. She thinks she hears Butler exclaiming over her state but things are getting pretty hazy.
"Hey." She drops to her knees beside Garrus.
"Shepard!" He gasps, grimacing as he reaches for her. "What happened to you?"
"Here." She retrieves the pocket drive from her bra and places it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. "Some intel on Garm's next few assignments. Also some correspondence that says he knows you're alive but his network hasn't turned up your location."
Garrus manages to sit up, his breath increasing. He presses his hand to her cheek, stroking the line of her jaw. "You crazy Human. How did you get this? What did you do?"
"Talk later." She moves his hand so she can lie down on his sleeping mat. Her body feels like lead—she won't be getting up again soon. "Really need to sleep."
Garrus lowers himself inch by inch back down, relying on his good arm. Once he's settled, he again fits his palm to her cheek. In her periphery vision, she can see Butler approaching with more bandages. "At least tell me why."
Sometimes Shepard doesn't mean to be difficult. She just can't help herself. Like this time—she falls asleep instead of replying.