Disclaimer: Chapter one.
Commander Shepard may be all stature and squared shoulders, but Alison Gunn was nothing but smoothness and serpentine hips. With how easily and fluidly she moved, Garrus wondered not for the first time how she could dance so badly when she could glide so well across a room. It was making his job to look like he didn't want to be there that much harder.
She was getting looks. He was, too, but the ones directed towards him seemed to be more interested in figuring out how he placed in here. Obviously he was supposed to be a slave, but his mistress seemed very interested in showing him off even though he obviously had some damage.
Shepard slid up beside him and pulled him down by the collar to whisper in his ear. "We got here too early, so we're going to have to mingle longer than we planned before they bring the artifact out of storage. I'm going to meet with another party in a private room to limit exposure. You're coming with me, and Grunt will be out watching the other guards, just in case."
He hammed up an angry growl, but signaled to the affirmative. Actually, it was a great idea, and the inevitable reveal of his identity would be less disastrous in a more controlled setting. He followed Shepard into a smaller room with muted lighting and a piece playing that would actually fool someone into thinking it was classy if there wasn't so much bass thumping. Maybe they had the subwoofer too high? He found himself seated in a table populated by a few other women and one man showing off their own prizes. One slave in particular was a drell whose black eyes looked so dead that he could have thought they were gouged out. He didn't want to think about how they got that way.
"Oh," a turian woman looked over Garrus with obvious interest from where she was lounging in the cushioned booth beside them. Her own pet (a human male, and the irony of the situation wasn't lost) leaned into her as she tilted her head towards Shepard. "My name's Lehaxa. I can't help but notice your handsome boy. Palavan markings and everything." She hummed a dual tone.
"I think so, too. That's why I picked him up." She looked over proudly at her feigned "purchase". Garrus gave an indignant look. She turned back towards Lehaxa. "Name's Alison Gunn."
"I'm charmed. My, it's a shame he's banged up like that. Could be worth a lot more without the scar."
"Oh, but I think the marks are what make the piece." She reached over without looking and ran some fingers lightly over the scars. Garrus was so off-guard, he couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him. "Sort of like the scars on the back of a fallen angel, you know? Just proves you of the authenticity."
"Fallen angel?" She wondered aloud.
"My boy here had a lot of enemies, and survived a rocket to the face just long enough for me to snatch him up from Hell," Shepard said pleasantly, and understanding registered on the other woman's face with a gasp. She eyed him again with a new appreciation, and when he sneered at her, deviousness stole all over her features and the hum in her sub-harmonics.
"Not very friendly, is he? You'll have to beat that out of him," she said, her voice chiming with humor.
"I'm taking my time," Shepard returned, "The slow process of... breaking in... a new one is something to savor."
"I won't argue with you there, but I don't see how you could keep your hands off him."
"Maybe I don't." Multiple soft fingers slid up the back of his neck, and it took everything he had to look vicious. Her touch felt so... so... Why didn't anyone tell him that Shepard was so soft? This was the worst scenario to find out how silky your commander's skin was.
His sneer did well enough. "Ooh, I don't think he likes being petted," Lehaxa said.
"Oh, he likes it." The fingers slid around and tucked under the joint of his mandible, rubbing the sensitive muscle and daring the teeth next to it to bite. He squirmed and growled, honestly feeling a little out of his depth here, and even a little annoyed. If Shepard could tell he was enjoying this more than he should, the least she could do is not point it out! He was having enough trouble as it was.
The conversation continued a while, and at some point, Lehaxa whispered something into her human's ear. He bounced up immediately towards the bar to get drinks. Lehaxa herself, while she appeared to enjoy the aesthetics of males with her own race, seemed to have a preference for humans for how heavily she leaned towards Shepard and how close her gloved talons were to Shepard's bare thighs. The slave came back with the drinks, which surprised Garrus in that there were also enough for the slaves as well.
He eyed his own drink with a sneer and shot a pleading look towards Shepard, hoping she'd be the only one to see his dilemma; it was far too easy for the drinks to have been tampered with. She was scrutinizing her own glass before the Lehaxa leaned in to breathe something in her ear. Whatever she said, it wasn't enough for Shepard, who gave a curt "Not my taste," and slid it and Garrus's glass back towards the slave. The man looked flustered, since it was obviously not what his mistress intended, but Lehaxa shrugged.
Then she had the slave dump the two drinks. Always one to think of the worst case scenario, Garrus rifled through a list of potential drugs that could they could have spiked the drink with. No one was making any sudden movements after they were refused, so it seemed unlikely that it was something potentially deadly, but various chemical cocktails were still possible; it just depended on the intention.
The way Lehaxa kept looking at them both, he felt confident in narrowing it down to an extensive list of date-rape drugs. Garrus couldn't help but feel more worried for Shepard; she was unarmed until the rendezvous with Kasumi to get their equipment, and this woman most likely knew a great deal of "tricks" that could be used to subdue humans.
"Hrnph. I took my Hallex too early," the male batarian in the party huffed and pushed himself back into the black leather cushions. "At this rate, I'll be depressingly sober by the beginning of the auction."
Lehaxa grinned at him while an asari chuckled. "Just take more, sweety."
"Then I'll be too horny to listen to the auctioneer!" he hissed through his gravelly voice. "All these pretty bodies walking about being shown off, too. What's a man to do? Have all of you at least taken some sort of dosage? I hate being the only one it's working on; makes me feel like an old pervert."
"Miss Gunn here doesn't fancy it, but the rest of us—"
"Who?" He shoved himself up and pointed his four glazed eyes in their direction. "Well, that's a pretty couple." The eyes narrowed at Garrus. "Wait... could that... no..."
Lehaxa's mandibles grinned wide and she said something to the batarian that Garrus couldn't parse with the loud music. He responded with a ghoulish smile of his own and propped himself forward on the table.
"Brand new one, isn't he?" he said towards Shepard.
"That's right," she answered proudly, "And not a cheap one, either."
"I don't doubt it. Surely you wouldn't mind giving us all a look? It might get this party started."
"You're looking at him right now."
"No, I mean..." he pulled away a moment and plucked out something from a satchel strapped to the drell, then held it up. A little orange pill shaped like a hexagon, which Garrus could tell from here had a little symbol from the turian language.
Garrus felt his gizzard twist. He would have rather taken the Hallex-laced drink.
Shepard, however, wasn't as versed in such contraband. "What is that?"
"A little something to get the blood pumping. You know, loosens plates, forces erections, that sort of thing. The turians made it way back as something for erectile dysfunction, but it was found to cause extreme aggression and general loss of control, so they, of course, banned it."
The turian woman shrugged. "Might be a little early for that. He is new."
"All the better," the batarian said. "He'll lose himself just enough to still be aware of himself and all the nice things he'll be feeling. I've broken in a few this method myself. No harm in trying it."
Garrus wanted to say that there was harm in it. The drug could cause hypertension, addiction, and had a bad residue effect. Long term abuse could result in various symptoms, including a disconcerting trend of serious seizures and strokes. He'd never used it before, so most of the big problems weren't an issue, but he sure didn't want to start.
"Alison" seemed to be unhappy with the suggestion as well. "I don't want to spoil him just because he was lucky enough to come with me to a party. Hard enough keeping him in line."
"Believe me, he won't see it quite the same way," the batarian laughed and slid the little pill across the smooth tabletop. "Come on; there's still a while before the auction, yet. Let's enjoy ourselves."
This is ridiculous, Garrus thought. How was he supposed to stay on top of his game if he was going to get drugged? It sure as hell wasn't part of the plan. On the other hand, it would be suspicious for the character Shepard was playing to decline since displaying (and humiliating) her trophy was her whole act. He sneered at the batarian, but lightly tapped a signal against Shepard's leg under the table to indicate he was prepared to go forward with this course of action.
She hesitated but a moment before she leaned over, generously dragging herself so slightly against the table, to pluck the little pill from the purple alien's hands. Then, she slowly turned towards Garrus, pulled him down towards her by the collar around his neck, and slid it under a mandible and into his mouth.
The thing was bitter and he didn't hide how he gagged from it, honestly wanting to spit it out but knowing that the collar, if it was activated as Shepard was pretending it was, wouldn't have allowed him to. He looked hatefully down at her, and she gave him a cocky grin even if there was a little flick in her eyes that wanted to speak apologies.
"You all can't touch, though," she said, molding herself back into his stiff posture and sliding an arm around his waist. He let himself shiver since it was easy enough to pretend it was disgust. "He's all mine."
They agreed readily, and he let himself feel some relief; at least the rest of the party was going to keep their hands to themselves. And it wasn't like the drug was known for altered states of consciousness, so he most likely could perform his duties, uh, as readily as before. As for the inevitable arousal… well, he would have been thankful for his armor protecting his dignity. Any sign of inappropriate interest will no longer jeopardize the mission, and Shepard wouldn't hold it against him afterwards.
Still, he kept himself at military attention and let his mind wonder as he sat, which was something a turian who went through basic (i.e. every turian) knew how to do. The conversation they had, which he might have hoped could have some leads or insight into their illegal operations, were merely the banal complaints of rich people completely severed from the galaxy around them instead. Sure, they were more flippant with the subjects of murder and sabotage, but otherwise no different than people who frequented the Presidium.
Shepard took a moment during one of these conversations to start typing on her omni-tool, tilted such that it looked like she was engrossed in a private conversation, but conveniently within Garrus's line of sight. He glanced at it.
I could have said you were allergic.
He felt the blood run out of his face in mortified realization. She absolutely could have; he should have let her instead of insisting on pushing forward. He sighed angrily, mostly to himself, and she chuckled. Another flash of orange drew his eyes towards the projected screen.
I have to say, though, if I had to do this with anyone, I'm glad it got to be you. Though I'm afraid I might have more fun with this than I should.
He blinked dumbly and almost forgot to take his eyes away to keep from drawing attention. He wanted badly to ask what she meant by that.
That sudden displacement of blood was finding a new course of action in his body at that moment; the drug was starting to work, and he shifted his hips in an effort to shift his armor into a comfortable setting.
"Well," Lehaxa made a pleased hum. She noticed Garrus's change in behavior. "He's revving up, Ms. Gunn. What's your favorite thing to do with him? I'd like to see what tricks he's good at."
"I enjoy the way he squirms," she answered, and punctuated that with a hand running down his chest and over his groin, and squirm he did. He couldn't even feel her hand through the ceramic plate, but her closeness was doing ridiculous things to him. The other hand slid beneath his fringe, and he couldn't help but growl a low moan. She laughed a husky, bell-like tone.
Shit, she really was having fun.
"Snap off that codpiece," Lehaxa demanded, a little breathless, "so we can see everything squirm."
Shepard did so with such speed that Garrus hardly blinked before the protective covering was gone. How the hell did she know how to unlatch turian armor? Did she… prepare for this before? She had a thing for turians? Maybe she even had a thing for him?
His nerves caught up with him there, such that he was sure he'd be shaking if he wasn't pressed into a couch. His mandibles were fluttering with apprehension that Commander Shepard was not only molesting him in front of an audience, but was enjoying it because she wanted him. But this wasn't enough to curb the jerking spread of his lower plates, or the slow but sure emergence of his inflamed erection.
And though every person in that private room was staring, he was only aware of Shepard's eyes.
She reached over and lightly, teasingly, flicked a finger over the very tip of his head. He writhed from the small touch. "None of you happen to have some manacles on you as well?"
There was a laugh and a pair of electronic ones slid across the table. She smiled, grabbed them, and beckoned Garrus to rise. "Turn around so I can put these on, then sit in front of me. I'm thirsty."
His eyes were wide and he knew it; they felt like they could fall out of his head. Shepard was demanding to chain him up and then, from the sound of it, present himself to get a blowjob, a sex act he'd only heard about and damned if he hadn't more than once thought about the capabilities of her lips doing the same. He was so stunned, he nearly forgot his purpose there. Then, he barked out in legitimate anger that surprised him just as much as the order, "No."
Alison Gunn's face fell, then she sneered back at him. A hand went up to snatch his collar and pull him in. "What do you mean 'no'?"
He grunted, but saw something else other than the feigned wrath of a dominatrix scorned. She looked worried. She must have noticed that his outburst was a little too genuine and wondered if she really was taking it too far. Unfortunately, he had no room to explain otherwise.
Archangel stood his ground at his mistress, keeping up a proud chin even as his erection strained to meet her clothed body. She let go of him suddenly, and with a wicked expression, filled the codpiece with some ice of an emptied drink not yet cleared and snapped it back in place. He screeched and the party burst out in laughter.
Garrus slammed his fists down onto the table and willed himself to get over it as the rest of the party howled and went about into another conversation. When he looked up, Shepard was watching him, leaned against a hand, considering him carefully.
"I'll kill you, you fucking bitch," he hissed, but he let hum through that a good-natured suggestion of a laugh that the others surely couldn't hear over their own rowdiness. He imagined that she understood it, and hoped that her face, so obscured from everyone but him, was now being warmed by a brief but none-the-less genuine smile.
