Chapter 14
"Pretty sweet find, huh?" Jack mumbled, though it was hard to understand her, given how full of chicken her mouth currently was. Still, she was certainly entitled to some credit. The alien uprising had caused many of the residents of the inner city to flee, presumably for the safety of Cerberus military installations, abandoning their homes in their haste to escape. That left an opportunity for two hungry biotics, and Jack had picked out a pretty nice apartment for them to burglarize.
Miranda had found it strangely therapeutic to cook up the meal, they were now eating. "At least if we're going to die, we'll do it on a full stomach," she agreed with a sort of grim humor. She twisted open a bottle of imported Earth beer, and took a long pull. In general, she wouldn't have described herself as a beer person, but it seemed an appropriate drink for their present circumstances.
Jack definitely was a fan of the stuff, popping open her sixth bottle of the evening with her biotics and swilling it down. Under other circumstances, Miranda might have chided her about getting drunk, but thanks to the convict's enhanced metabolism, she was no more than buzzed, and there was little chance she would be incapacitated by a hangover the next morning.
Besides, what does it matter? Drunk or sober, we're not going to survive an attack on that tower.
Responding to her pessimism, Jack asked, "You really think we're not going be able to pull this shit off?"
"Maybe we can find a way," Miranda replied non-committally. "Figure out a way past the guards, get to the top floor before too many of them are onto us, and kill Ford. I'm not saying it's impossible, but it's a long shot."
"Fuck," Jack snorted, "You've got that big brain, I'm sure you'll think of something. No matter what, that asshole needs to die."
"Hopefully, he will." Miranda left her last thought unsaid; that even if they did find a path to Ford, the odds of them actually making it back out of the tower and finding a ship off-world while every Cerberus soldier on Typhon tried to get revenge for the death of their leader were pretty much non-existent. The mission might not be doomed, but it was almost certainly a one-way trip for whoever took it.
"Anyway, it won't be our first suicide mission," Jack pointed out, digging back into her chicken. "Riding into certain death is kinda old hat by now."
And what does that say about our lives?
"You know, I'm curious," Miranda said, "How did you spend your time before our last one. I mean, you know what I was doing…"
Jack's snort of laughter interrupted her. "Who you were doing, you mean, cheerleader. Half the ship heard you and Shep knocking boots before the Collector Base." Jack smirked as she twirled the bottle cap of her beer in the air with a small biotic field.
"We might have been a tad vocal," Miranda conceded with a shrug. She didn't really want to think about her former lover. The time when he had laid claim to her heart seemed a million years ago. Now, it was someone else she found more interesting, even if it was a ridiculous thought. "But I was asking about you."
Jack shrugged. "Didn't do much. Drank mostly. Zaeed, Grunt, that Chambers girl…"
Her voice trailed off and a sudden wave of regret weighed down on Miranda. Zaeed was all right last she'd heard, but Grunt had been killed fighting the proto-Reaper, and Kelly had been shot in the head by Cerberus soldiers during their attempted coup on the Citadel. So many gone. She raised her bottle in a salute. "To old comrades."
Jack's clinked hers against it. "Yeah. To them."
A moment passed without either of them speaking, but Miranda wasn't willing to abandon her question yet. "But you didn't have anyone to contact before we passed through the Omega Four Relay?" She asked. "I know you were taken from your parents, but no friends? No boyfriend?" She paused. "A girlfriend perhaps?"
Jack let out another derisive snort and took a long swig of her beer. "Relationships are bullshit. If there's one thing I learned long before the Normandy, it's that people let you down in the end. Especially if you're fucking them."
"You really believe that?"
"Look who's talking. I don't mean to be a bitch but Shepard kinda screwed you over when he bailed for that Alliance chick."
"Perhaps it's men that are my problem," Miranda joked.
Of course, I'm just joking. Right?
Jack chuckled. "Maybe." They sipped on their beers in silence for a moment before the convict spoke again. "So what if this a one way trip? As long as I go down taking Cerberus with me then I don't have any regrets. But what about you? You were all about Cerberus when we met. Why throw everything away to get your ass killed fighting them?"
"Because I have nothing left to lose. I hardly had much of anything to begin with, and now... Better to be remembered as the woman who put the final nail in Cerberus' coffin than as the Illusive Man's right hand."
"So this is about your legacy or some shit like that?"
Miranda recoiled at the thought. "Please don't say that. You make me sound like my father. No, it's not about my legacy. I suppose I'd just like to die a better woman than I lived."
"So there's nobody you wanna call tonight, either? What about that sister of yours?"
Miranda shrugged. "Ori doesn't need to hear from me. I'm glad I got to meet her, but she doesn't need to be tainted with my name, with the things that I've done. We had our talk. Now, it would be better if I just disappeared from her life."
"Shit." Jack took a long swig of beer. "Guess we're both alone, cheerleader."
"Not exactly. We have each other don't we?"
Jack laughed bitterly. "Yeah, two chicks who a week ago hated each other's guts, and now we're all we've got left. Shit, that is sad."
"I never hated you," Miranda admitted. "Not truly. In fact I was… maybe a little jealous of you. If I'm being honest."
"What?" Jack arched an eyebrow.
"I always needed someone to tell me who to be. My father, the Illusive Man… even Shepard. But you?" Miranda cracked a smile. "You never let anyone tell you who or what you were. I greatly admired that. I still do."
Jack returned the smile. "I guess I was kinda jealous of you too."
Now it was Miranda's turn to be incredulous. "Oh, really? And why is that?"
"Well...you've got amazing tits."
Miranda couldn't help but laugh and Jack joined in. The operative couldn't remember the last time she'd done that without bitterness behind it, and the convict seemed to notice. "You should let your hair down more, cheerleader," she said.
At least tonight, I should. I don't imagine I'll have many more opportunities. Miranda looked down at her beer. "Think they have anything stronger here?"
"Now you're talking," Jack said enthusiastically as she hopped to her feet.
Miranda found her eyes drifting along Jack's body as the convict hunted through the wooden cabinets that lined the kitchen. When she found her prize, Jack whirled around, holding a bottle of bourbon in one hand and wearing a smile on her face.
She really is quite beautiful when she smiles. Not that she does it very often.
"Guess these rich Cerberus fucks know how to party at least," Jack said as she unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a large swig before handing it over.
Miranda smirked before matching Jack's pull. The convict sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly pressed together. A shower had been both women's first priority after breaking and entering, and now it was electric, being so close to Jack, inhaling the clean scent of her body.
Instead of hiding from that feeling, Miranda finally embraced it. She was attracted to this woman. Jack was beautiful on nearly every level, but damaged, just like Miranda herself. She'd made mistakes, been someone she wasn't proud of, but she didn't let it define her. Cerberus had tried to break Jack, to make her a tool under their control, but it had only made her stronger. She never belonged to Cerberus or anyone else but herself. And under her uncaring persona hid a woman who cared deeply. About her students, about the galaxy she'd put her life on the line to help save twice, and Miranda dared to think that perhaps she cared for her as well.
Jack spoke up, pulling Miranda from her thoughts. "So say we fight our way up Ford's tower…"
"Alright, say we do."
Jack took another nip from the bottle. "And we rip the little bastard in two and kick the ass of any Cerberus fucker who's dumb enough to try to stop us from splitting. Once we've escaped, then what?"
"I suppose we go our separate ways." Even though there was little chance of that happening, the words still made Miranda's heart sink.
"Yeah...I guess." Jack hung her head. She almost sounded disappointed as well.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was a weight to the silence, and Miranda reached for the bourbon in an effort to cover it. Just before the bottle reached her lips though, she stopped and put it back down on the table. Wherever this conversation was going, she decided that she'd rather finish it sober.
"We wouldn't have to," she said at last, unable to meet Jack's eyes.
"Oh, yeah? Say we stuck together. What would we do?" Jack asked, though the question seemed genuine rather than malicious. "Open a fucking coffee shop?"
"Honestly, I have no idea," Miranda confessed. "It… was just a thought. Forget I mentioned it."
Jack shrugged. "S'okay. I was kinda thinking it too. This thing, this mission… it's been more than I thought it'd be."
"On that we can agree."
The hint of a smile crossed the convict's face, and once more, Miranda felt her heart catch in her throat at how pretty Jack looked. Beneath all of the anger and the garish tattoos, there was something indescribably lovely about the other woman, and the urge to act on her feelings was becoming more overwhelming by the second. Her eyes fell to Jack's full lips before shifting back to her big, brown eyes.
You'll probably never have another chance, she told herself, fighting down the spike of fear that the idea brought. And you might regret it if you try, but know you will if you do nothing.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Miranda bent forward. She moved slowly enough to give Jack a chance to withdraw, but when the convict shifted towards her instead, Miranda continued. For a moment they simply stared into each other's eyes, daring the other to press on, before the urge overwhelmed Miranda. She leaned in and their lips finally came together, drawn by a force that Miranda couldn't deny any longer.
As soon as the kiss began, Miranda's skin flushed at the heat of Jack's mouth. Her lips opened almost of their own accord, and the convict's tongue slid inside, even as hers did they same.
The need to touch, to taste, to feel was too sharp for her to do anything else.
Jack's hands shot out, one of them threading through Miranda's soft, dark hair, the other gripping her back, and the the two of them stumbled out of their chairs. Miranda was clutching at Jack now as well, tugging on her clothes, hands running along her body. Her breath was beginning to run short, but she couldn't bring herself to break the kiss. Some part of her knew that then, they might have consider what was happening, and she wasn't willing to do that. Not yet.
That meant it was Jack who broke off first, but it wasn't to talk. A tug of her hand encouraged Miranda to tilt her head back and Jack's lips went straight to her throat. The graze of the convict's teeth across the soft skin there made Miranda moan, desire bubbling over at even that first contact.
The sound seemed to give Jack paused. She stopped what she was doing, although she didn't pull back, making her breath hot on Miranda's skin when she asked, "Are we really doing this, cheerleader?"
Jack's breath hitched on the last word, and something about hearing the nickname spoken in that tone made Miranda shiver. There were reasons why this might be a bad idea, but none of them seemed to matter. Miranda wanted this, wanted Jack with an intensity that shocked her. There was an excellent chance she would be die tomorrow, and if this was going to be her last night alive, she realized there was no one she would rather spend it with than Jack.
"Yes," she panted, "If you want…"
Jack cut her off. "Fuck yes, I do."
The convict's lips found hers once more, and Miranda eagerly returned the kiss. A moan slipped out when she felt Jack's strong hands squeeze her ass through her tight pants. Tattooed fingers massaged into her soft behind before Jack's hands slid up to grab the hem of Miranda's leather jacket.
Jack wasted no time in tearing the garment off, even while Miranda started to unbutton the convict's jeans. Before she could get them down though, she had to lift her arms so that Jack could pull her tanktop up over her head. Her hair was left rustled and her torso was now only covered by her plain bra. They paused, each taking a moment to appreciate the sight, before Miranda reached back and unclasped her bra. She let the garment fall to the floor and Jack's eyes widened even as her hands reached up to cup Miranda's large breasts.
"Shit," she gasped as she palmed them, "Like I said cheerleader, amazing."
Jack's thumbs circled around her sensitive nipples, and Miranda bit down on her lower lip even as her breath caught in her throat. Already, her skin was flushed and heat was pooling between her legs. Admitting that this was what she wanted had opened a floodgate, and now Miranda was drowning in her need.
The two women staggered towards a nearby couch and when Miranda tumbled down into the cushions, Jack climbed on top of her. The convict bent low, taking the erect tip of a nipple between her lips and circling her tongue around the captured bud. Miranda moaned, louder than before, and her hands became unsteady as she fumbled with Jack's jacket. She needed to feel bare skin now and the slight pause in Jack's attentions while she helped to strip it off was worth the break.
Once her torso was bare, Jack switched over to the other breast, and Miranda was left to clutch at her, made almost helpless by her desire. One hand grabbed onto the convict's back while the other clawed at her short hair, wordlessly urging her to keep going. Every flick of Jack's tongue across her nipple, every touch of her slim fingers along Miranda's chest, sent bolts of lightning down her spine. It felt amazing, and more than that, it felt right, not like a desperate mistake, but something she should be doing.
I was such a fool to ever think of Jack as less than me, to not appreciate the woman she is.
The convict's tattooed hands snaked down across her torso, and Miranda's hips began bucking, desperate for the more intimate contact those touches promised. Jack didn't give it to her yet though. Instead, her tongue ran just below the line of Miranda's still-sensitive cut, but as good as it felt there, it wasn't enough.
"Jack," she mumbled in-between her gasps, "More."
For once, the convict obeyed orders. She slid down onto the floor beneath Miranda, and after making short work of its buttons, tugged down her pants. The underwear beneath them was already damp, and Jack began running her fingers along the outside.
Miranda moaned before grabbing hold of the convict's head, pulling it up to hers. Her tongue thrust into Jack's mouth and she drank in the kiss even while the convict's fingers found their way back to cup her clothed sex. Miranda panted, and Jack tore away from her lips long enough to hiss, "Fuck, you're into this. So wet for me already?"
The operative's only response was another gasp as her new lover's hand slid beneath the waistband of her underwear and began making its way through the trimmed patch of dark hair there. Once more their eyes met, and Miranda nodded, granting Jack permission to go further. The tips of the convict's fingers brushed across her folds, and Miranda's grip tightened. She had certainly enjoyed sex in the past, but she couldn't remember feeling this desperate for anyone else's touch.
By the time Jack had slid back her hood and found the nub of her clit, Miranda was trembling. The first press was enough to make her scream, and her inner walls pulsed greedily, hungry for some stimulation there as well. Shocks of bliss were shooting through her, and she only barely managed to find the words to ask, "I want you inside me, Jack. Please."
The broken note in her voice seemed to do the trick. A low growl came out of Jack's throat, and seconds later, two of her fingers curled inside of Miranda. Her body clamped down as soon as Jack was buried inside of her, unwilling to lose what she had just gained, and she could do nothing but rock back and forth as the convict settled in between her legs, setting up a hard rhythm.
"So fucking tight around me, cheerleader," Jack groaned, and Miranda could hear the desperate desire in her voice. She wanted, no needed, to get more of it. To explore every inch of Jack's body, to make her cry out over and over, until the convict couldn't take any more.
But not yet. First she needed to come, needed it as badly as she could ever remember needing an orgasm in her life. Every time Jack's fingers pressed into her, every time they hooked against her front wall, she felt it getting a little bit closer, but then, without warning, the convict slid out of her, and a whimper of disappointment slipped past Miranda's lips.
"I'm so close," she protested, "Jack, I'm…"
"I know. I wanna taste."
The promise alone was enough to make Miranda's clit throb almost past the point of no return. Jack knelt back between her legs, and this time she yanked the now-soaked underwear the rest of the way off. Miranda's bare skin quivered in the cool air, anticipation making her tremble, but it didn't stay anticipation for long. Jack's hands gripped her hips and her tongue finally reached her sex.
The operative rocked against Jack's mouth, giving herself over to the pleasure. The convict's enthusiasm was overwhelming, and as her tongue began to hit one delicious spot after another, she cried out, her eyes screwing shut. With each move Jack made Miranda felt herself crawl closer and closer to the edge while her worries melted away. She forgot about her likely, imminent death, about the galaxy's hatred of her, about her past romantic failures. The only things left were her pleasure, and the desperate desire to somehow stay in it forever, to never have to leave this apartment or Jack.
Jack's tongue darted in and out of her, even while her hand reached down to play with her throbbing clit. Miranda let out a sharp cry and her eyes snapped back open, meeting Jack's big, brown ones. The hungry look there was too much. Miranda's inner walls spasmed, spilling her release across the convict's lips and chin while the rest of her body went rigid.
Somewhere in her ecstasy, she found Jack's name, calling it out over and over, as waves of pleasure washed over her. For much too long, her life had been defined by horror, and loneliness, and pain, and she had needed this more than she could've imagined. For once, Miranda just let go and felt, taking everything Jack had to give her.
Only once she was left slumped into the couch, did Jack rise, licking her lips clean with evident relish. "Jack," Miranda murmured, "Thank you for that."
Jack grinned, an expression of amusement that belied the hunger in her eyes. "You wanna thank me, cheerleader, you can return the favor."
Absolutely.
Notes- At last! I hope you all have enjoyed the build-up to this moment and enjoyed reading this chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it. I hope you will share your thoughts with us in the reviews!