Hello readers, Welcome back, I just wanted to apologize for late chapter, and to get some things clear.

I have gotten on some recommendations to add Shepard and Liara to the Harem. I was not planning to in the first place, but hey! It ain't that hard to add them. So If you notice that Shepard starts getting more attention, it's because I am now playing catch-up with Shepard.

Also want to let you know that I am really bad at displaying time jumps in my stories, So I want to state that some days/weeks do pass between missions,so if it looks like things move fast, I apologize, it's my poor writing that makes it seem that way.

Lemons might be happening sooner than expected as well. (WARNING! Sensual scenes lie ahead. read to your comfort)

"dialogue", "Thoughts", actions,

(Disclaimer: I do not own any rights or properties of Mass Effect, or any other POP-Culture reference's that might be made)

Have fun!:)

Brutus lumbered through the sleek corridors of the Normandy, his claws clicking against the metal grating. His bones ached, but the thrill of being aboard this marvel of engineering eclipsed any discomfort. his towering frame dwarfing the doorways as he moved with preternatural grace. The ship hummed with power beneath his feet, a fitting vessel for a being of his caliber. His enhanced healing had already mended the worst of his wounds, flesh knitting back together at a rate that would impress even the hardiest krogan.

The doors to the cockpit whirred open, and Brutus ducked his head to enter. A lithe figure hunched over the glowing displays, hands dancing across the controls with a possessed intensity.

"Ah, our resident Krogan," the helmsman said sarcastically without looking up. "Remind me to send Shepard a fruit basket for letting you roam free."

"Very funny, guess that's why they call you Joker," Brutus growled, looming over the pilot's shoulder. Complex navigational readouts flashed across the view-screen. "That course you're plotting looks more twisted than a varren's bowels."

Joker scoffed. "I'll have you know I could fly through a mass relay sideways with my eyes closed. This? Child's play."

The disembodied voice of EDI chimed in. "That scenario seems inadvisable, Mr. Moreau. Ocular input remains essential for—"

"Not now, Mom," Joker said. He spun his chair to face Brutus, wincing at the motion. "Guess they broke the mold when they cooked you up in a lab, huh?"

Brutus shrugged his hunched shoulders. "And they broke your bones when they grew you in the womb." He was used to the jokes about his touchy subject.

They traded barbs like old friends, Joker's acerbic wit an odd complement to Brutus's blunt observations. Here, at least, rank and species meant nothing, only skill and audacity mattered.

Satisfied, Brutus left Joker to his calibrations and prowled down to the medical bay. The doors parted to reveal Dr. Chakwas poring over a datapad, her hawk, like gaze snapping to him as he entered.

"Brutus, right?" she said warmly, setting aside her work. "How's my newest, favourite patient?"

He snorted. "Restless. Shepard's got me cooped up in the ship, while she does all the fun stuff, like looking for the Salarian Doctor. I wasn't even hurt that badly on the last mission."

Dr. Chakwas tutted, motioning for him to sit. "From what I've seen, your brand of 'fun' leads you straight to my operating table. Not that I mind patching you up."

"I'm starting to think she left me behind because she didn't want Aria chitchatting with me again~" Brutus eased onto the cot, the thin mattress creaking under his prodigious weight. As Dr. Chakwas ran her omni-tool over his latest scars, an easy silence settled between them. She had a knack for projecting calm amidst the maelstrom.

"Now wouldn't that be something, The great Commander Shepard getting jealous perhaps?~" Dr. Chakwas could only chuckle at the notion.

"Jealous? Nice joke, I can tell that Shepard probably doesn't do liking people very easily. Anyways, You've been a medic a long time?," Brutus said.

"Longer than I care to admit." She chuckled. "I've seen my share of scrapes and all the trouble soldiers get into." Her keen eyes locked on his. "I owe them my absolute best."

He nodded, absorbing her wisdom. The doctor had an air of quiet steel about her, an unshakable resolve to protect those in her care. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for non combatants like her.

As she finished her ministrations, Dr. Chakwas fixed him with a knowing look. "Now, off with you, and do try to stay in one piece."

Brutus gave her a mock salute and rumbled from the room, thoughts churning with the past and present colliding in his skull. For the first time in ages, he felt part of something greater, and he would fight tooth and claw to safeguard it.

Brutus ventured deeper into the Normandy's labyrinthine corridors, his heavy footfalls echoing against the polished metal. The scent of Turian cologne and heatsinks tickled his nostrils as he approached the cannon room, a familiar aroma that set his predatory instincts on edge.

There, hunched over a glowing console, stood Garrus Vakarian. The turian's mandibles flared in concentration, his deft fingers dancing across the interface. Memories flooded Brutus's mind, transporting him back to just after the mission to retrieve Archangel.

*Flashback*

EDI's voice chimed in, breaking the silence. Bringing the words they wanted, they needed to hear. This would determine everything from here on out. "I have news of Archangels status."

Shepard inhaled deeply, "Alright, EDI. Give us the news…Is he?"

The door opened abruptly, and a familiar voice rang out, "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Garrus walked in, His armor was scorched, it also had shrapnel all up the front. His face had a new scar running up it. But he was alive, "Nobody would hand me a mirror on the way up here, Is It really that bad?" His raspy tone inquired jokingly.

Shepard replied with a huge smile, "Garrus! you tough son of a bitch, I'm glad to see you ok!, I wish we were able to bring you out safely… As for looks, You've always been ugly Garrus~" she jokingly said

Brutus also cracked a smile, glad that his failure hadn't led to the death of one of Shepard's closest friends. "Yeah, Slap some paint over that mug and you couldn't tell the difference." Brutus couldn't help throwing a jab at him..

"Oh really now?, Well at least this gives you a fighting chance at picking up some ladies on our next citadel vacation. After all, I reign supreme in the looks department." Garrus threw back a challenge towards Brutus.

Brutus could only snarl playfully, "You got yourself a deal Archangel, or should I say Vakarian now that you're no longer stomping out mercenary strong holds?. Next time we hit up purgatory, we'll see who can tango with the ladies better, let's say, 500 Credits?"

Garrus shook his head and laughed before grunting in pain, "Don't make me laugh, Shit still hurts from the surgery. But I don't mind making some credits, your on!"

*Present*

The memory of their banter faded as Brutus snapped back to the present. Garrus looked up, his keen eyes locking onto Brutus's figure.

"Shouldn't you be out there terrorizing some poor, unsuspecting mercs, looking for the Salarian?" Garrus teased, though the warmth in his voice belied his words.

Brutus chuckled, the low rumble resonating through the room. "Shepard's got me benched for now. Something about not knowing how a virus in the Wards will react with my biology. How's the calibration business?"

Garrus sighed and stepped back from his console. "You know how it is, tweak one setting and two others go off balance. It's a dance, Brutus, a never-ending dance."

Brutus nodded, scanning the intricate array of weaponry that surrounded them, The cannons impressive. "Looks like you could use a break. Joker's cracking jokes, Dr. Chakwas thinks Shepard's got a soft spot for me, and I've made myself cozy in the bowels of this ship. Your reason for selecting this room?"

"Someone's got to keep these guns in top shape," Garrus replied with a shrug of his plated shoulders.

They traded barbs back and forth, the banter flowing as easily as breathing. Despite their different species, the two mercenaries understood each other on a fundamental level. They had both seen the ugliness of the galaxy, the price of failure etched into their very flesh.

As their laughter faded, Garrus's expression turned somber. "I never thanked you properly. For Omega. For having my back against Garm. There was a time on Omega when I could have took Garm on 1 on 1, but I guess I got a little rusty. Thank you."

Brutus clapped a hand on the turian's shoulder, his claws digging into the armored plate. "Don't worry about it, Garm may have been a arrogant asshole of a Krogan, But he was still leader of the Blood Pack. Meaning he was a tough bastard, even me with all my enhancements couldn't beat him so easily. We're buddies now Garrus. Bound by blood and battle, I should be the one apologizing for allowing the gunship to sneak up on us."

A moment of silent understanding passed between them, the weight of shared loss and hard-won victories. In that instant, Brutus knew he would gladly lay down his life for this crew, this newfound pack.

"You know," Garrus said at last, his tone quieter now, "I heard about what happened to your old unit. The Illang, right? Damned shame, that."

As they stood there in silence, Garrus's words hung heavy in the air. Brutus couldn't escape the memories of his old unit, the Illang, and the tragedy that had befallen them. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "Damned shame." He clenched his jaw to keep from showing any emotion, but Garrus could see right through him.

Garrus nodded, his eyes distant. "I lost my own squad not too long ago. Good men and women, all of them. Betrayed by my own friend, led right into an ambush. It...it stays with you. I Plan on getting my revenge before the suicide mission, I'd like it if you joined me when I do."

Garrus revealed the loss of his own squad, and for a moment, their shared pain bridged the gap between them. They were both soldiers who had seen too much death, carrying it with them like a weight that would never leave. "Alright Vakarian, When you find the bastard. You can count on me to help track him down."

Brutus felt a mix of sorrow and solidarity as he raised his fist in tribute to the fallen. In this moment, their differences didn't matter, they were brothers united by their scars and their duty to remember those they had lost. "To the fallen," he said, his voice gaining courage.

Garrus mirrored his gesture and echoed his words, "To the fallen," and for a brief moment, they found solace in each other's company. Brutus couldn't shake off the conflicting emotions that swirled within him, grief for his fallen comrades and gratitude for finding a kindred spirit in an unexpected place.

They spent the next hour swapping war stories, tales of narrow escapes and hard-won victories. It was a balm to the soul, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the camaraderie of those who understood.

As Brutus made to leave, his omni-tool pinged with an incoming message. It was from Kelly Chambers, the ship's yeoman. "Just a heads up," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "I think Miranda might be a bit stressed out. Might want to check in on her, see if there's anything you can do to help."

"Thanks for the heads up, Kelly," he rumbled. "I'll go check on her."

With a nod to Garrus, Brutus set off towards Miranda's quarters, his mind whirling with possibilities. The Normandy needed her XO at peak performance, but more than that, he found himself strangely invested in her well-being.

As he approached her door, Brutus steeled himself. Dealing with emotions had never been his strong suit, but for the sake of the mission, and perhaps something more, he would do his damnedest to lift Miranda's spirits.

He raised a clawed hand and knocked, the sound reverberating through the quiet hallway. Whatever awaited him on the other side, Brutus was determined to face it head-on, as he always had.

He found Miranda in her office, her brow furrowed as she pored over a stack of datapads. She looked up as he entered, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.

"Brutus," she said, her tone clipped. "What can I do for you?"

He leaned against the doorframe, his posture deliberately casual. "Heard a rumor you might be a bit stressed out. Thought I'd come and see if there's anything I can do to help."

Miranda's lips thinned, her expression guarded. "I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I have everything under control."

He stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. The room was immaculate, every surface gleaming with a clinical precision that set his teeth on edge. Miranda herself looked as pristine as ever, her white catsuit hugging her curves like a second skin.

But there was a tightness around her eyes, a tension in her shoulders that betrayed her inner turmoil. Brutus could smell the stress rolling off her in waves, a sharp, acrid scent that made his nose twitch.

"Heard you might need a little R&R," he said, keeping his tone light. "Thought I'd drop by and offer my services."

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance filtering through as she regarded his intrusion. "Brutus, I don't need a babysitter. My personal state is none of your concern."

Brutus allowed himself a small grin, his fangs glinting in the artificial light. "Maybe not, but stress is a silent killer, Lawson. If it affects your work, it becomes my concern, Shepard needs the best, and If her XO Isn't in top shape. It could lead to dire circumstances, correct logic?"

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut through with one of his claws. Miranda sighed and leaned back in her chair, her gaze softening just a fraction. "You're not going to leave until you've had your say, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Brutus replied, his tone laced with a humor that belied the seriousness of his intent.

Miranda set aside her datapads and steepled her fingers. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Brutus shrugged nonchalantly and stepped closer. "How about a spar? A good fight always clears my head."

A spark of interest flickered in Miranda's eyes despite herself. "And you think you can take me?"

He chuckled deeply, the rumbling sound filling the room. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Her lips curled into a smirk as she stood up from her desk, She was Cerberus's best operative, She was peak human performance, and She couldn't pass the opportunity to see his smug face surprised. "Alright, Brutus. You're on."

They made their way to the Normandy's training room, a makeshift area located in the cargo hold. An unspoken agreement hanging between them: no powers, no weapons, just hand-to-hand combat to level the playing field between human and werewolf strength.

The room was a symphony of clanging metal and the dull thuds of punching bags as they walked in. The space was empty, save for the two of them, a private arena for their impromptu bout.

Miranda stretched her limbs with practiced ease, her every move precise and fluid. Brutus watched her, his yellow-violet eyes tracking the lithe grace of her body, respect mingling with anticipation. She was strong and capable; he could tell by the way she carried herself.

Brutus stretched his massive limbs, the sinew and muscle flexing beneath his fur. Miranda watched him, her own body poised and ready, every inch the lethal operative she was known to be.

The air between them crackled with a strange electricity as they circled each other, looking for an opening. Brutus was the first to lunge, his move a feint to gauge her reaction. She sidestepped gracefully, pivoting to face him with a smirk that said she would not be so easily fooled.

Back and forth they went, trading blows that were expertly blocked or narrowly dodged. Each move was a conversation, an exchange that said more than words ever could. Brutus had to admit, Miranda's reputation was well-deserved; she moved with precision and purpose, her form perfect.

Their sparring grew more intense, sweat glistening on Miranda's brow as she matched him step for step. The sounds of their exertion echoed around them, sharp intakes of breath, the slide of feet across the floor, the occasional grunt when a hit landed just a little too close for comfort.

Miranda feigned left and then went right, catching Brutus off-guard with a palm strike that made him stumble back. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he regained his footing, impressed by her cunning.

Brutus's instincts flared to life, a primal satisfaction surging through him at the challenge she presented. He launched himself forward with newfound vigor, claws retracted but ready. His attacks became a blur, pushing Miranda to her limits as she deflected and countered with a dancer's grace.

The atmosphere shifted subtly, each block and counter-attack carrying an undercurrent of intimacy that neither acknowledged aloud. Their breathing synchronized as if in a dance neither had rehearsed but both instinctively understood. The space between them seemed to charge with each exchange, an electric hum that was felt more than heard.

Miranda slipped beneath his guard, her body pressing close against his for a fleeting moment as she aimed a knee towards his midsection. He caught it just in time, his large hand wrapping around her thigh, feeling the strength and warmth of her through the fabric of her suit.

Their eyes locked, and for an instant, the world outside their silent battle ceased to exist. Brutus' heart hammered in his chest, sending a surge of blood roaring in his ears. Miranda's pulse fluttered rapidly beneath his touch, a wild rhythm that thrummed against his skin.

Releasing her leg with deliberate slowness, Brutus stepped back to reassess, the ghost of her heat lingering on his palm. She gave him a look that was equal parts warning and invitation, daring him to underestimate her again.

The fight continued, though now there was an unspoken question hanging between each strike and counterstrike. A brush of fingers against fur could have been accidental; the way Miranda's body pressed against his during a grapple was surely strategic... wasn't it?

"You're good," he murmured, the words rough in his throat.

"Better than you expected?" Miranda retorted, but her voice lacked its usual hard edge.

"It seems there are many things I've yet to learn about you," he confessed softly.

He caught her leg, when she went to throw a round house kick at him, using the momentum to slam her on to the mat with minimal force, just enough to assert some dominance in this friendly spar. She landed on her back, she let out a grunt as she looked up now at Brutus, gaze staying just a little too long on his soft Furry ears.

"Oh~ Don't tell me you wanna pet them?. That would be something, little Miranda politely asking to pet this wolves ears. ha-ha" Brutus couldn't help but smile down on her, as a small blush appeared and disappeared ob her face, fast as a mass relay jump.

"N-No… Why would me, the Perfect human want to p-pet some dumb mutts ears…" Her rapid eye movements betraying her true feelings.

Miranda lay there, momentarily stunned by her position beneath the towering werewolf. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and she could feel the heat from his body as he stood over her. The look in his eyes had changed; no longer just a warrior assessing his opponent, but something more primal.

Brutus extended a hand to help her up, his gesture igniting a spark of defiance within her. She smacked it away, rolling deftly to her feet without assistance. "I don't need your pity," she spat, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what could be seen as a playful sneer.

He raised an eyebrow at her response but didn't press the issue. Instead, Brutus backed off to give her space. "Never pity," he replied with a hint of respect coloring his tone. "Only admiration."

Miranda checked her Omni-Tool, It had already been 30 minutes and She still had work to do. With a tired sigh, she raised her hands "We'll call it a tie for now, I should really get back to my work. Being Executive Officer doesn't come with much downtime." She started back towards the Elevator, stopping as the doors opened, throwing a look back at Brutus as her hips swayed just a little too much under her tight catsuit for Brutus's comfort "Thank you, for the spar I mean. I'd like to continue it sometime~" She disappeared within.

Miranda didn't know exactly what she was doing with Brutus, She was a cold, calculating operative. She was used to manipulating people, hell, she even manipulated Shepard at some points. But Brutus was an enigma, She should be using her mind and body to manipulate such a strong asset, but here she was, borderline flirting with the beast, with no intention of manipulation in mind. She raised her head and leaned against the cold elevator wall, letting a small smile appear for a split moment. before letting the mask return.

Brutus could only shake his Head, thanking God that his K9 anatomy and his soft, dark fur hid his large…Ahem, Appendage so well from her calculating eyes. "Why is her catsuit so tight?… Any longer and my manhood might have started playing peek-a-boo, then we would have had an awkward situation on our hands." He mused silently.

The heavy metal doors of the elevator slid open with a hiss, revealing the dimly lit corridor of the engineering deck. Brutus stepped out, his boots thudding against the grated floor as he made his way toward the secluded area beneath the engine room. Hearing engineer Donnelly and Daniels arguing on the other side of the door as he disappeared down the stairs

The space was cramped and cluttered, with pipes and conduits snaking along the walls like metallic veins. But there was a certain charm to it, a sense of privacy and isolation that appealed to the lone wolf within him. (Jacks usual location on ME2, Yes, they will share this space)

Brutus set to work, clearing out the debris and organizing his meager belongings. He hung his battered armor, and cloak on a makeshift rack, the scars and dents telling stories of countless battles. His weapons, and gauntlets lovingly maintained and modified, found their place on a nearby workbench. He was naked in a sense, for the first time in awhile. No armor to hide himself, His fur the only companion at the moment.

As he worked, Brutus's mind wandered to the conversation with Miranda, the way her icy exterior had melted away, revealing the vulnerability beneath. It was a side of her he had never seen before, and it stirred something within him, a fierce protectiveness that caught him off guard.

The sound of the elevator doors opening snapped Brutus out of his reverie. He turned, his enhanced senses picking up the familiar scent of gun oil and ozone that always seemed to cling to Shepard.

"Brutus," Shepard greeted, stepping down the stairs and into the room area. Her emerald eyes took in the space, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I see you've made yourself at home."

Brutus shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "It's not much, but it's mine."

Shepard nodded, understanding in her gaze. "Sometimes, that's all we need." She hesitated, then added, "I was just about to grab some chow in the canteen. Care to join me?"

Brutus's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he grinned. "Lead the way, Commander."

The canteen was empty save for a few off-duty crew members, hunched over their meals in weary silence. Shepard and Brutus loaded up their trays and found a quiet space, the hum of the ship's engines a constant background noise.

For a moment, they ate in companionable silence, the weight of their shared mission hanging heavy in the air. Then Shepard sighed, pushing her tray away.

"I won't lie, Brutus," she said, her voice low and tired. "This mission... it's a damn nightmare. The Collectors, the Reapers, the fate of the entire galaxy hanging in the balance..."

Brutus listened, his heart aching slightly at the weariness in her tone. He knew all too well the burden of leadership, the crushing responsibility of holding lives in your hands.

"We'll get through this, Shepard," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're not alone. You've got the best damn crew in the galaxy at your back, and we'll follow you to hell and back if that's what it takes."

Shepard looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and something else, something deeper and more profound, that he couldn't place. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm glad you're here, Brutus. I know we haven't known each other all that long, but I don't think I could do this without you." placing a hand over his much larger one, she gave him her full attention.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Brutus felt a warmth spreading through his chest, a sense of belonging and purpose that he had never known before.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. "We're in this together, Shepard. Until the end."

And as they sat there, two warriors bound by duty and destiny, Brutus knew that he had finally found his place in the universe. A place to call home, and people to fight for. suddenly her voice struck through the air.

"I heard that you and Miranda might have gotten in to quite the scuttle?" She raised her eyebrow accusingly.

Brutus started to get slightly nervous, looking around rapidly under her watchful eyes, "I d-don't know what you are referring to… She was feeling stressed earlier and i suggested that we have a friendly spar to cool her head a bit. The Normandy needs her XO" Answering a bit too quickly, It wasn't his fault that her intense gaze made his fur stand up.

Shepard let a smirk grace her beautiful features as she had Brutus where she wanted him, she had put a muzzle on the beast, "Oh? So your idea of cooling her head is to spar?, I'm sure you had no intentions of using it as an excuse to get, hands on with her, correct?~"

Brutus gulped comically, "N-No!, Me!? getting hands on with Miranda!?, Why would you accuse me of such accusations. I mean, we did spar, and I guess we did get kinda close with our punches,but I swear it was mostly professional!."

Shepard let a shit eating grin grace her face, loving the lighthearted tone of the quiet canteen. "Mostly?, Interesting~. Well I'm glad that Miranda is feeling better. Thank you for filling in the role of Commander while I was away, I'll make sure to check in on her. Oh Brutus!, you should know that, Mordin Solus is located in the tech labs opposite of the Armory, he's brilliant but very eccentric with his work." She got up, picking up both of their trays, an idea to tease him sprung to mind. "And also, I wouldn't mind having a little sparring session of our own sometime~ don't keep me waiting~" she sauntered off with a pep in her step.

Brutus watched Shepard retreat, her confident stride and her playful hips swaying enticingly beneath her armor. sending his pulse racing in a way that the spar with Miranda ever could. He cursed himself for letting his guard down around the Commander. How had she managed to corner him so effortlessly? She was a predator in her own right, and he'd do well to remember that.

Brutus allowed himself a moment to revel in the energy that Shepard left in her wake, a blend of combat-readiness and sensual promise that only a seasoned warrior like herself could exude so effortlessly. His mind awash with conflicting emotions. As the engine's thrum melded with his own heightened senses, he realized that this, this tangle of camaraderie, teasing banter, and unexpected attraction, was something new. Something dangerous for his more primal instincts. The side he had to keep in check.

With a growl, Brutus pushed back from the table and decided it was time for some much-needed solitude. He needed to regain his composure before he faced Shepard again. She had a way of peeling back his layers, exposing him more than any physical spar ever could.

He made his way to his newly discovered sanctuary, his mind buzzed with the events of the day. The elevator hummed softly as it descended, and he stepped out into the dimly lit corridor that led to his secret haven.

The door hissed open, revealing the space he had begun to make his own. Brutus took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of metal and grease that permeated the air. He moved to the workbench he had set up, running his clawed hands over the tools and components scattered across its surface.

This was his domain, a place where he could lose himself in the intricacies of machinery and forget, if only for a moment, the weight of the mission that lay ahead. He picked up a piece of armor, turning it over in his hands as he contemplated the modifications he could make to enhance its performance.

Despite his focus on the task at hand, Shepard's presence lingered in his mind. Her gentle words and admiring gaze ignited a fire within him that he never thought possible. As the strong and disciplined leader of the Wolf Brigade, he never allowed himself to be vulnerable or fall for anyone. But now, as the weight of rebuilding the Illang and avenging his fallen team pressed down on him, another thought lurked in the depths of his mind "could someone like him truly experience love?, Was it worth risking everything for?" The urgency of the moment was pushing him to act, to pursue relationships before it was too late. Yet, doubts and fears echoed in his head, reminding him of the potential consequences. Yet another thought persisted: if he didn't take this chance now, would he regret it forever?

He worked late into the night, his enhanced senses allowing him to see clearly even in the dim light. And as he finally set his tools aside and stretched his aching muscles, he felt a sense of peace settle over him.

In the cavernous silence of his makeshift den beneath the engine room, Brutus lay sprawled across the bare metal floor, his heart still hammering in his chest. The scent of Shepard lingered in his nostrils, a tantalizing mix of gun oil and Ozone. "She really does smell of earth wherever she goes." Brutus's tongue ran across his lips as he recalled her words, a low growl vibrating deep within his chest. "Don't keep me waiting..."

He shook his massive head, trying to dispel the thoughts that were unbecoming of a warrior of his stature. The experimentation hadn't made him to be distracted by carnal whims; they bred him for strength, loyalty, and tenacity. To be the perfect hybrid between beast and man, To have the ferocity of an animal, but the intelligence of something more. Yet here he was, entangled in a web of desire and duty.

There was also the matter with Miranda to contend with, her professional, cold facade barely masking the simmering heat that threatened to ignite between them during their spar. It was a dance as dangerous as any combat maneuver, and twice as intoxicating.

"We'll get through this," he thought, echoing his words to Shepard earlier. "Together, we can do anything."

With that thought firmly in his mind, Brutus made his way to his bunk, ready to face whatever challenges the new day might bring. And as he drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was of Shepard, and the bond they shared.

The Normandy was silent, just the core crew was awake to keep the ship maintained. Some of the ground team were awake as well, Everybody seemed to be winding down for the day. Joker had retired to his bunk after plotting the course to the Eagle Nebula, telling EDI to wake him if anything were to be shown on scanners. After all, Joker new the Terminus system was full of dangerous surprises.

Zaeed grimaced as he surveyed the Normandy's starboard cargo hold. Dim lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the piles of crates and equipment. Not ideal, but it would do. With a grunt, he hefted a battered M-8 Avenger rifle onto a makeshift table – his first real trophy from the brutal sieges on Zorya. Gnarled fingers caressed the weapon's scratched barrel as memories, both glorious and haunting, flooded back.

Next, he carefully placed a Blood Pack helmet alongside it, the faded red markings a testament to his relentless crusade against the vicious mercenary group. Last, Zaeed positioned a turian frigate model ship, its sleek lines reminding him of that fateful day above Camala when... He shook his head, refusing to dwell on it now. These were his keepsakes, hard-won in the fires of battle. They grounded him. Steeled his resolve.

The mercenary allowed the faintest of smirks. This place would shape up just fine. He could make himself at home amidst the reminders of why he kept putting his ass on the line, year after year.

Across the Normandy, the steady thump of jazz music smoothed Jacob's brow as he meticulously reassembled a Vindicator rifle. His calloused fingers danced over components with practiced ease, muscle memory taking over. Deep breaths expelled the tension coiled within him.

The stakes couldn't be higher, but neither could the payoff, crippling the Collectors once and for all. He had to be ready. Had to be sharp as a blade's edge when he stormed the Collector home-world. He was ready, The thought of his father invading his mind momentarily. But He couldn't dwell on the man that disappeared ten years ago. He shook the thoughts from his head, turned up the jazz music, and he returned his focus to the weapon before him. One round at a time.

Miranda's jaw clenched as she signed off on her report to the Illusive Man. Her sculpted digits glided across the haptic interface, meticulous down to the last keystroke. Revealing nothing. Betraying not a shred of the swirl of hesitation and uncertainty roiling within her carefully guarded psyche. Was she truly doing the right thing by following his directives? By guiding Shepard down this inexorable path? and what of her sister? Rumors had made it's way to her, Her sister Oriana was being targeted by her father again. Was the Illusive Man really in her best interest?.

She inhaled a shuddering breath, shuttering those treacherous thoughts. Her formidable will was an adamantine bulwark against doubt. Her absolute faith in Cerberus's mission was unshakeable. Or so she thought.

And yet a tendril of unease persisted, fueled by that damnable sense of Thanatos lurking beyond the veil, that inescapable pull toward self-destruction, always hovering at the periphery...

With a touch of annoyance, Miranda rose, her frustration causing her to hastily strip off her skintight catsuit. There was a burning need to cleanse her mind of the poisonous thoughts that were festering within. Each tug and pull of the form-hugging garment over her voluptuous curves felt like a purging ritual, releasing some of the negativity brewing inside her. The skin-hugging suit slid down her voluptuous body like a second skin, pooling at her feet in a bundle of white with black accents. Her black kidskin gloves soon followed, landing in a crumpled pile beside her catsuit. The knee-high boots got kicked off next, leaving her sinfully bare.

Her lithe body stretched in an almost feline way, each muscle groaning with satisfaction. she admired herself in the full-length mirror. She looked ravishing, a result of genetically tuned looks, but she knew her appeal went beyond just physical attributes. It was an otherworldly allure that seeped from every pore, an intoxicating aura that could render even the most powerful man, someone like Brutus completely bewitched if she decided to turn it full throttle against him.

Her breasts were firm and ripe like summer peaches; their size and softness enough to make any man's mouth water. And her child-bearing hips, wide enough to distract and tease, yet slender enough to not be a battlefield liability. Her ass, now that was her greatest weapon she believed. It let her manipulate men and woman across the galaxy as she pleased, in her covert operations. A sight to truly behold in the naked flesh, large, round, and plump, Barely held within her tight catsuit. The silent thought of Brutus's large furry hands exploring every inch of her body made a shiver follow the curve of her spine. A warmth pooling deep within her stomach, "Stop, Miranda! bad girl, bad." She had to verbally berate herself, she was no amateur adolescent when it came to boys. She was Miranda. fucking. Lawson, and she would make sure that any boy including Brutus would be the one to submit, but it wasn't entirely her fault. She remembered the way Brutus' eyes had roamed over her body earlier, taking in every inch as if memorizing it for later. How his breath hitched when their gazes locked; how his heart pounded against his chest like a wild animal in a cage; all clear signs of his secret burning desire for her.

A wicked smile spread across her full lips at such provocative thoughts. However, she wasn't going to give him a taste of what he thirsted for just yet. There would be time enough for trivial games later on. For now, she needed to rest up and gather strength for the challenging fuck-fest ahead. Damn, tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day. She climb atop her mattress, she didn't bother covering herself, laying naked and sinfully provocative atop her mattress. Drifting off to lala land

Garrus's brow plates knitted as he scrutinized the main battery's displays, lost in a labyrinth of calculations and re-calibrations. Efficient as always, his mind remained singularly focused on optimizing the Normandy's devastating firepower.

The steady thrum of machinery provided an almost meditative backdrop. One that threatened to lull him into losing himself in the intricate dances of mass effect fields and frequencies. But a familiar tightness across his scarred mandible jarred him back to grim reality.

With a rueful half-smile, his talons traced the jagged furrows gouged into his plated hide by that fateful rocket strike on Omega. He couldn't deny the bitterness piercing his soul over his once-rugged good looks being slightly reduced by some scumbag on Omega. But neither could he quash the undeniable sense of pride burning within. Pride at having survived such a devastating attack. At persevering where so many had fallen.

He was still here. Still fighting the good fight, side by side with the last person he'd ever have expected: Brutus. That lone beast had done the impossible, earned Garrus's utmost respect through sheer, unbreakable determination. Against any sane logic, he now considered the battle-hardened maverick one of his closest allies. Perhaps even a friend.

Garrus felt the ghost of a smile tug at his plated mouth. Who'd have thought?

Mordin's brisk footfalls clacked urgently across the tech lab's pristine floor as he darted between workstations in a red blur. Data streams and simulations flickered across his console feeds with dizzying speed, his brilliant mind processing the deluge at a rate few organics could hope to match.

Scintillating discoveries and breakthrough hypotheses flooded his consciousness in rapid succession. He could feel himself hovering on the breathtaking cusp of some fundamental new insight into the very nature of the Collectors, their motivations, their unnerving Reaper augmentations.

"Log entry, record," he snapped in his sing-song cadence while pacing in tight, agitated circles. "Multiple urgent priorities vying for finite cognition resources. Need increased Nootropic intake? Should consult Dr. Chakwas on recommended dosage parameters. Weighing adverse side effects versus potential benefits. Personal estimate – 72.8% chance of acceptable risk/reward ratio. Will continue tests."

Never one to idle while his mind raced, Mordin sliced an incandescent beam of focused energy across a bank of petri samples, cauterizing and storing the latest batch of biological matter harvested during their mission. He catalogued each one with methodical precision, his brain whirring like a well-tuned engine block.

His rapid-fire musing continued unabated as he lost himself in the heady ocean of unknowns surrounding their foes. They were formidable adversaries to be sure, though Mordin couldn't suppress the faint thrill at having such a tantalizing puzzle to unravel.

Commander Shepard's bare legs shifted restlessly beneath the thin sheets as she tossed and turned in a fitful slumber. The normally unflappable marine radiated a disquieting mixture of angst and... something else entirely more carnal.

She grimaced as a bead of sweat trickled between the valley of her breasts, wicking into the loose cotton of her cropped tank top. Even her subconscious sought to betray her. To sabotage the rigid control she always exerted with mocking phantasms and lurid imaginings.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Shepard's breath caught as her dream conjured up an intimate chamber lit by the soft glow of the Normandy's ambient lighting. Brutus was there again, but this time his eyes gleamed not with blood-lust but with something much deeper, something primal and undeniable. His muscular arms wrapped around her, drawing her into the furnace of his embrace, his fur brushing against the sensitive skin of her exposed midriff, igniting a trail of white-hot desire that coursed through her veins.

She felt him growl, a low rumbling sound that resonated in his broad chest and vibrated against her own. Shepard's hands roamed over the furry contours of Brutus's back, nails scratching along his shoulder blades in a manner that elicited a pleasured snarl from the depths of his throat. The raw power beneath his fur-covered flesh left her breathless, craving more of the intoxicating connection that tethered them, heart to heart, soul to soul. Their lips met in a tempestuous dance, a melding of wildness and want so stark it bordered on the divine.

Shepard's dream self surrendered to the heat of the moment as Brutus's rough tongue traced the shell of her ear, sending shivers cascading down her spine. His breath was hot against her neck, tantalizing whispers of undiluted lust spilling from his lips onto her skin. There was no denying the pull between them, a force as unyielding as the ebb and flow of a raging sea.

The commander felt a pleasure surge as Brutus' large, deft hands explored the curves of her body, fingers expertly caressing the tightening peaks of her arousal with a dangerous gentleness that belied his ferocious exterior. Her back arched instinctively into his touch, aching to feel the warmth of his fur against her, to be enveloped in the strength of his embrace.

A soft moan slipped from between Shepard's parted lips, her breath hitching as the vividness of the dreamscape intensified. In her mind's eye, Brutus' muzzle nuzzled into the crook of her neck, seeking out the pulse that thrummed beneath her skin with the precision of a predator. His teeth grazed her throat in a playful warning of his capability, yet his actions remained tender, reverent almost, as if worshiping at the altar of her femininity.

Shepard whimpered, lost in the throes of her dream, her body responding to Brutus's every touch with an eager fervor. His hands slid lower, tracing the planes of her stomach before venturing lower, her body ached for his attention. The movement was both a tease and a promise, a sign that he was attuned to her deepest desires.

Shepard's body tensed, and a soft, keening sound escaped her lips. The dreamscape Brutus responded to her call with a growl that was pure, unrestrained power. His fingers traced the apex of her thighs, exploring and teasing near her intimate area, heated wetness pooled beneath the surface. His touch was both masterful and maddeningly deliberate.

Shepard whimpered into the darkness of her quarters, her dream-induced arousal spilling over into reality, "yes, right there!…" as she jolted up from her slumber, surprised and embarrassed at her late night rendezvous happening in her dream. Shepard's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Had she really just moaned aloud in her sleep? The mere thought sent a fresh wave of heat washing over her from head to toe.

Shepard's heart raced as she sat up in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her skin felt flushed and hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with residual arousal from her vivid dream. She ran a shaky hand through her tousled hair, trying to regain her composure.

"Get it together, Shepard," she muttered to herself. But the images from her dream lingered, Brutus's powerful body pressed against hers, his rough hands exploring her curves, his hot breath on her neck. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the bathroom, her cotton top and matching thong feeling a little too snug at the moment, she stumbled to the bathroom splashing cold water on her face. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Shepard couldn't deny the hunger in her own eyes. Her face was still flushed, "It's a Little weird to be thinking about your subordinate like that Shepard, I mean… He is unique, and strangely endearing in a type of way~ NO!, Stop it Shepard!" She sighed, It was going to be a long night ahead.

The Kodiak shuttle shuddered as it descended through Korlus's murky atmosphere. Shepard gripped the safety harness, her knuckles whitening inside her armor. Brutus sat across from her, his yellow-violet eyes glinting in the dim light. It wasn't the right time or place, but the undercurrent of tension hummed through the shuttle like static. The air crackled with the charge of battle, yet Shepard couldn't fully dispel the lingering heat from her dreams for the past . For a moment, she allowed herself to recall how Brutus's rough voice had whispered depravities that made her thighs clench in delicious anticipation. Then the memory evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced, chased away by the reality of their mission.

Shepard shook off the distraction and focused on Zaeed and Garrus, who were checking their weapons with practiced hands. Their banter was lighthearted but strained under the weight of what lay ahead. The camaraderie of combat was a given, yet this went deeper as each member of her team faced their own demons.

"All right, listen up," Shepard said, her voice steady despite the memories threatening her composure. "Our target is a krogan warlord named Okeer. Intel suggests he's growing his own private army of krogan. Should be a simple extraction."

With a smirk, Zaeed adjusted the strap on his rifle. "Simple, huh? Last time you said that, I ended up with more holes in me than a whore's stockings."

Garrus chuckled, the sound resonating through his mandibles. "Just make sure you don't let the pretty boy outdo you, Zaeed. I'm not hauling your ass out of the fire."

The shuttle thumped down on Korlus' barren surface, the landing gear compressing with a groan of stressed metal. Without delay, Brutus rose to his full height, his towering form momentarily eclipsing the cabin's emergency lights.

Shepard could feel Brutus's resolve as they locked eyes. "We get in, and get out before these bastards know what hit them," she stated firmly.

Brutus grunted in agreement. "Keep it tight, watch your ass." The pragmatic concern in his voice was as clear as the serrated edge of his fangs that peeked out from beneath his snarl.

Brutus was the first one out, his massive frame filling the hatchway. He froze, his head cocked as if listening intently. The plates on the back of his armor shifted as his muscles tensed.

"What is it?" Shepard asked, moving up behind him, trying to ignore the heat radiating off his body.

"We're not alone," he rumbled. "I hear movement in the complex ahead. And the cock of weapons."

No sooner had he spoken than a hail of gunfire rained down on their position, pinging off the shuttle's armored hull. Shepard cursed and dove for cover behind a rusted crate, the rest of the squad scrambling for safety.

"Blue Suns!" Garrus called out, ducking as a round ricocheted near his head. "Heavily armed."

"So much for an easy extraction," Miranda said dryly, her biotics flaring around her fists.

Brutus snarled, the sound more lupine than human. "I'll show them heavily armed." He unholstering his shotgun, the M-22 Eviscerator like a child's toy in his massive grip.

Shepard's heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and something more primal surging through her veins. "Hold position," she barked. "We push forward on my mark."

Zaeed chuckled darkly. "Time to make these bastards bleed."

Garrus lined up his scope. "I've got the high ground covered. Just say when, Shepard."

A grenade arced through the air, landing with a metallic clank near their position. "Shit!" Shepard yelled. "Move!"

They scrambled as the explosion rocked the landing zone, showering them with debris. Brutus's massive form shielded Shepard from the worst of it, his body pressed against hers for a heated moment.

"Fuck," Shepard gasped, her armor suddenly feeling too constrictive. She could feel Brutus's ragged breath on her neck. "Thanks for the save."

Brutus's eyes locked onto hers, pupils dilated. "Always," Brutus growled, his yellow eyes blazing.

They locked gazes for a heated moment before the crack of gunfire snapped them back to reality. Brutus spun, unleashing a barrage from his Eviscerator that tore through the Blue Suns' defenses. Blood and viscera painted the rusty walls.

"Push forward!" Shepard commanded, her own assault rifle barking as she advanced.

The squad moved as one. Garrus's sniper fire dropped mercs with pinpoint accuracy while Zaeed lobbed incendiary grenades into their ranks. Miranda's biotics pulled bodies out of cover, one at a time.

But it was Brutus who truly lived up to his namesake. He charged into the fray with a biotic charge, fangs bared in a feral snarl. His shotgun rang out and spilled the guts of an unlucky merc. The next merc was torn apart from His massive claws.

"Goddamn," Zaeed whistled appreciatively. "Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."

Shepard squared her shoulders. "We'll have to fight our way to Okeer. Brutus, take point. The rest of you, lay down covering fire and move up by squads. Let's go recruit us a krogan warlord."

Sweat trickled down Shepard's brow as they fought through the abandoned colony, the staccato of gunfire and guttural battle cries echoing off the crumbling walls. Brutus led the charge, his shotgun booming, each blast punctuated by a spray of blood and the crunch of shattered armor.

Miranda and Brutus worked in tandem, their biotics lifting enemies into the air for Garrus to pick off with surgical precision. Mordin darted from cover to cover, his omni-tool flashing as he overloaded shields and sabotaged weapons, the odd enemy lighting on fire from an incinerate tech blast.

Despite their efforts, the Blue Suns kept coming, an endless tide of mercenaries pouring from every crevice. Shepard's muscles showed early signs of fatigue, her rifle slowly growing heavy in her hands.

Suddenly, a new sound joined the fray, a deep, primal roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet. Shepard whirled around, her eyes widening at the sight of a massive krogan charging through the Blue Suns ranks, tossing armored bodies aside like ragdolls.

"Shepard!" Brutus's voice cut through the chaos. "That krogan… it's not with the mercs."

She followed his gaze, saw the confusion and fear on the faces of the Blue Suns as they turned their weapons on the rampaging krogan. Realization dawned, cold and sharp.

"Okeer," she breathed. "He's released his own krogan to fight the mercs."

Miranda sidled up beside her, lips pursed. "Clever. Let his creations do the dirty work while he focuses on his precious 'perfect' specimen."

The battle raged on, the mercenary forces now split between contending with Shepard's squad and Okeer's unleashed horror. Garrus' sharpshooting had become a rhythm of death, each pull of the trigger sending another Blue Sun to oblivion. Zaeed growled curses under his breath with every merc he sent to meet their ancestors, fire and bullets his mediums of expression.

Brutus fought like a demon unleashed. His shotgun roared, its concussive blasts echoing like thunder against the colony's dilapidated structures. Each round vaporized armor and tore through flesh like a predator rending prey. His movements were a blur of primal savagery and meticulous martial discipline, a dance of death honed by years of combat and the instincts of his lupine genetics.

Shepard maneuvered through the bloody carnival with a commander's eye, orchestrating the destruction as if it were second nature. "Mordin, I need those shields down!" she yelled over the cacophony.

"On it, Shepard!" Mordin replied, his fingers dancing across his omni-tool with the precision of a concert pianist playing a symphony of sabotage.

With deft coordination born from uncountable hours of training and real-world combat, Brutus and Miranda advanced side by side. Brutus let out a howl that rang out as he and Miranda used their biotics, Miranda's warp collided with Brutus's throw, causing a biotic explosion that took out most of the Blue-Suns ahead of them.

"Not bad Ms. Lawson~ Color me surprised that you were able to sync and predict my moves. Does that come from my psych evaluation, or do you just watch me secretly," Brutus teased, his voice a low growl of admiration mixed with something more lustful, his eyes briefly flickering over Miranda's form before refocusing on the battle at hand.

Miranda smirked, the deadly dance of combat igniting a spark in her that was both exhilarating and terrifying. "Stay focused, Brutus. We still have work to do."

The battle raged on relentlessly. Shepard pushed ahead, her rifle spitting death at the remaining Blue Suns. She tried to ignore the heat simmering under her skin at Miranda and Brutus's charged banter. This was hardly the time or place, yet she couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that coiled in her gut like a venomous snake.

Mordin's omni-tool flashed, overloading the last of the enemy's shields. "Path clear, Shepard. Okeer's lab just ahead."

"Copy that." She signaled the squad forward, stepping over the mangled corpses of mercs and krogan. The coppery scent of blood hung thick in the air.

As they approached the lab, an eerie silence descended, broken only by the hum of machinery. Shepard's grip tightened on her rifle. "Stay sharp. No telling what Okeer has waiting for us."

The doors hissed open, revealing a cavernous space filled with gleaming equipment and towering tanks. And there, in the center, stood Okeer himself, a massive krogan with an unsettling gleam in his eyes.

"Commander Shepard," he rumbled. "I wondered when you'd arrive. Come to marvel at the pinnacle of krogan evolution?"

Shepard leveled her rifle at him, jaw clenched. "I came to recruit you for a mission, not admire your science experiments."

Okeer waved a dismissive hand. "My work is far more important than your petty human squabbles. This," he gestured to the tank behind him, where a massive krogan floated in viscous fluid, "is the future of our species. The perfect soldier, free from the genophage's curse."

Zaeed growled, the sound gravely and menacing. "Enough talk. You're coming with us, whether you like it or not."

The warlord chuckled, a grating sound like gravel underfoot. "Am I? And what will you do if I refuse?"

Mordin's blunt, quick rapid response stating the obvious, "Warning Commander. Krogan seems to be growing bold and threatening. Krogan may have grown hysteric. Immediate action advised."

...when a sudden, shrill alarm pierced the air. Red lights flashed along the walls as a computerized voice blared, "Warning: Containment breach imminent. Evacuate immediately."

Okeer's eyes widened in fury. "No! They wouldn't dare!" He whirled back to his console, fingers flying across the keys. "That damned Blue Suns captain! She's trying to poison my creation before it can even draw first breath!"

Shepard lowered her weapon slightly, brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

The krogan scientist snarled, "Gases, toxins, they're flooding the room through the ventilation system. If I can't stop it..." His gaze locked onto Shepard, desperation etched into every line of his weathered face. "Commander, if you and your crew can eliminate these mercenary scum, I swear on the graves of my ancestors that I will join your cause. But you must hurry, before it's too late!"

Brutus's nostrils flared, catching the first acrid hints of the deadly chemicals seeping into the room. "Shepard, we need to move. Now."

The commander hesitated for a heartbeat, her instincts warring with the urgency of their mission. Then, with a curt nod, she turned to her squad. "You heard the man. Let's take out those mercs and secure this facility. Okeer, do what you can to keep that krogan safe. We'll be back."

As they raced back out into the fray, Shepard's mind raced. They had to end this quickly, before the Blue Suns could complete their sabotage. She signaled her team to fan out, seeking cover among the rubble and rusted structures.

The mercenaries had regrouped, their numbers bolstered by the arrival of reinforcements. Gunfire erupted from all sides, mass accelerator rounds whizzing past Shepard's helmet as she dove behind a low wall. Beside her, Brutus let out a roar of challenge, his shotgun blazing as he charged forward.

Biotics flared to life, the air shimmering with dark energy as Shepard's team unleashed their powers. Garrus, perched atop a nearby tower, picked off targets with ruthless efficiency, his sniper rifle cracking out a staccato rhythm.

Yet even as the Blue Suns' ranks thinned, a new threat emerged. A towering, blond woman in heavy armor strode onto the battlefield, a cruel smile playing across her lips. "You think you've won?" she called out, her voice amplified by her suit's external speakers. "Think again."

With a flick of her wrist, she activated a control on her omni-tool. Across the compound, the sounds of shattering glass and splintering metal heralded the release of Okeer's failed experiments. Enraged krogan, twisted by genetic manipulation, burst from their holding pens and charged toward Shepard's team.

The commander gritted her teeth, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. They were caught between the mercenaries' guns and the raw, unrestrained fury of the krogan. And if that wasn't enough, the ground suddenly shook beneath their feet as a massive shape lumbered into view.

A YMIR heavy mech, its armored plating gleaming in the harsh sunlight, raised its arm-mounted cannons and opened fire. Rockets streaked toward Shepard's position, forcing her to leap aside as the wall behind her exploded in a shower of dust and debris.

She rolled to her feet, shouting orders over the comm. "Concentrate fire on that mech! Brutus, Zaeed, keep those krogan off our backs! Miranda, we need your biotics to keep that captain occupied!"

As her team scrambled to obey, Shepard raised her own rifle and took aim at the mech's optics. They had to end this, and fast, before Okeer's creation, and their only hope of stopping the Collectors, was lost forever.

Brutus let out a guttural growl as he led his team directly into the path of the charging krogan. His enhanced reflexes allowed him to sidestep a swinging fist, the air whooshing past his face as he narrowly avoided the blow. With a snarl, he brought his shotgun to bear and fired point-blank into the krogan's chest, the heavy rounds tearing through armor and flesh alike.

Behind him, Zaeed's voice crackled over the comm, "I've fought krogan before, but never this many at once. This is gonna be a hell of a fight, even for us."

Miranda's cool, focused reply followed, "Stay sharp and stick to the plan. We can do this."

Brutus nodded, his yellow-violet eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield. The krogan were closing in, their bloodlust palpable in the air. He knew they had to be smart about this. Brute force alone wouldn't be enough this time.

"Miranda," he barked, his deep voice carrying over the din of battle, "use Overload to keep those shields off. I'll draw their attention and take them down one by one, Zaeed! use concusive shot to knock them off balance."

With that, Brutus launched himself into the fray, his powerful legs propelling him forward with inhuman speed. He wove between the krogan, firing his shotgun and using his claws to rend flesh when they got too close. The smell of blood and sweat filled his nostrils, the thrill of battle singing in his veins.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Zaeed blast a krogan off his feet, the explosive discharge causing the warrior to stumble to get up. Miranda followed up with a biotic warp, The guttural noise of the krogan torn to shreds by the power was heard.

They fell into a rhythm, working together with the kind of seamless efficiency that only came from hard-won experience. But even as they whittled down the krogan's numbers, Brutus knew they were on borrowed time. Shepard and her team were still locked in a deadly dance with the YMIR mech, and every second counted.

He redoubled his efforts, his muscles burning with exertion as he pushed himself harder, faster. They had to end this now, before it was too late. Before everything they'd fought for was lost.

Shepard dove behind a low wall as another salvo of rockets streaked overhead, the heat of the explosions washing over her like a physical force. Beside her, Garrus and Mordin returned fire, their weapons chipping away at the mech's thick armor.

"We need to find a weak point," Shepard shouted over the cacophony of battle. "Mordin, any ideas?"

The salarian scientist ducked as a hail of bullets stitched a line across the top of their cover. "Armor plating weakest at joints, around optics," he replied rapidly. "Concentrated fire may cause structural damage, force mech to expose vulnerable systems."

Shepard nodded, a plan forming in her mind. "Garrus, focus on the optics. Mordin and I will keep its attention divided."

The turian sniper flashed her a grim smile. "Just like old times, Shepard."

As one, they rose from cover, their weapons blazing. Garrus's sniper rifle cracked like thunder, the high-caliber rounds slamming into the mech's optics and sending spiderwebs of cracks spreading across the reinforced glass. Shepard and Mordin poured fire into its joints, the constant barrage causing the mech to stagger and lurch.

But it wasn't enough. The mech's armor was too thick, its weapons too powerful. They needed something more, something to tip the balance in their favor.

Shepard's gaze fell on the fuel tanks scattered around the compound, and a plan took shape in her mind. If they could lure the mech closer, maybe they could-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening roar as One of the krogan, its eyes ablaze with unbridled fury, broke through Brutus's defensive line and charged straight for Shepard and her team. Time seemed to slow down as Shepard activated her adrenaline rush and raised her rifle, but it was too late. The krogan closed in too quickly.

But then, in a blur of dark fur and metal, Brutus came to their rescue. With an thunderous tackle, he slammed into the charging krogan, his massive claws tearing at its throat as they tumbled to the ground in a vicious struggle.

Shepard tore her gaze away from the chaotic scene, forcing herself to focus on the mission at hand. Despite the sacrifice Brutus had made to protect them, she refused to let it be in vain. She gritted her teeth and prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Get ready to move," she barked into the comm. "We're going to give that mech a little surprise."

Shepard's team moved with practiced efficiency, Garrus and Mordin taking up positions on either side of the fuel tanks while Shepard drew the mech's fire. The air crackled with the heat of the mech's weapons, each near-miss sending shivers down Shepard's spine.

The cacophony of grunts and snarls filled her ears as Brutus clashed with the relentless krogan, their battle a raw display of sheer desperation that sent shivers down her spine. In the midst of this primal struggle, she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on fear that threatened to consume her. With gritted teeth, she urged herself to focus on the present moment.

"Now!" she cried out, swiftly seeking refuge as Garrus and Mordin unleashed a barrage of firepower upon the vulnerable fuel tanks. The resulting explosion reverberated through the air like a thunderous symphony of destruction, engulfing everything in blistering heat and piercing shrapnel. The mech reeled from the impact, its wavering shields faltering under the relentless assault.

Shepard was on her feet in an instant, her rifle barking as she poured round after round into the mech's exposed circuitry. Beside her, Garrus and Mordin did the same, their weapons chewing through the mech's armor like paper.

For a moment, it seemed like it might not be enough. The mech's arms flailed, its weapons still spitting deadly fire even as it staggered and reeled. But then, with a final, convulsive shudder, it toppled to the ground, sparks and smoke pouring from its ruined frame.

Shepard took a quick moment to catch her breath as a triumphant roar echoed through the air. She turned to see Brutus, his fur matted with blood and his eyes burning with feral intensity, standing over the defeated krogan.

Their gazes locked for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them, a recognition of the battle they had just fought, the risks they had taken. Then Brutus sprang into action, heading towards Okeer's lab with a sense of urgency that made Shepard's heart race.

She followed closely behind, her team falling in step beside her as they made their way through the carnage of the battlefield. The smell of blood and smoke hung thick in the air, the ground littered with bodies of fallen mercenaries and krogan.

But when they reached the lab, it was to find a scene of utter devastation. The room was filled with a choking haze of poison gas, the consoles sparking and sputtering as they struggled to maintain life support. And there, slumped beside a flickering terminal, was Okeer's lifeless body.

Shepard felt a surge of anger and frustration as she stared at the fallen warlord. All this, for nothing. All the fighting, all the risks they'd taken, and they'd still failed to secure their objective.

But then her gaze fell on the console beside Okeer's body, and the anger faded, replaced by a grim sense of determination. There, still intact despite the chaos, was the tank containing Okeer's prized creation, a perfect krogan warrior, genetically engineered to be the ultimate soldier, free of the genophage.

Shepard's jaw tightened as she made her decision. She might not have been able to save Okeer, but she'd be damned if she let his work go to waste. One way or another, she was going to see this through.

"Brutus, help me get this tank on board the Normandy," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "We're taking it with us."

Brutus nodded, his expression unreadable as he moved to assist. Together, they hauled the heavy tank through the wreckage of the lab, their steps dogged by the weight of the choices they'd made, the battles still to come.

But as they emerged into the harsh light of Korlus's sun, Shepard felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. They might have lost Okeer, but they'd gained something else, a new ally, a new weapon in the fight against the Collectors.

And with Brutus by her side, she knew they'd face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same tenacity and determination that had brought them this far. Together, they were unstoppable.

The hiss of the pod's seal breaking shattered the tense silence of the cargo hold. Shepard's heart raced as the front panel slid open, birthing fluids gushing out in a viscous wave. From within the clouded liquid, a massive form pitched forward and collapsed to its knees with a resounding thud.

Brutus tensed, clawed hands flexing at his sides as the krogan's heaving coughs echoed through the chamber. Shepard's hand twitched toward her pistol, a lifetime of battlefield instincts screaming danger.

The newborn warrior's eyes snapped open, blazing with confusion and fury. In a flash of movement too fast to follow, he lunged at Brutus with a guttural roar.

The newborn krogan slammed into Brutus with the force of a freight train, driving him back against the bulkhead. Brutus snarled, his fangs bared as he grappled with the enraged warrior. Corded muscles strained beneath his armor as he fought to subdue the krogan's flailing limbs.

"Dammit, Shepard!" Brutus shouted, his biotics flaring to life around his claws. "I told you this was a bad idea for me!"

But Shepard held up a hand, her eyes locked on the struggling figures. "Wait," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let's see how this plays out, Krogan's respect power and strength. Try to gain that from him!."

The krogan's fists pummeled Brutus's chest and face, each blow landing with a sickening crunch. But Brutus weathered the assault, his regenerative abilities already knitting flesh and bone back together. With a roar of defiance, he surged forward, slamming the krogan back against the pod.

The metal buckled and groaned under the impact, but the krogan barely seemed to notice. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrashed against Brutus's iron grip.

"I am pure krogan!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. "You are weak! Unworthy!"

Brutus tightened his grip on the raging krogan, claws digging into thick hide as he slammed him against the bulkhead again. The metal screeched in protest under the immense force.

Brutus growled, his yellow-violet eyes flashing with primal fury as he struggled to pin the krogan's flailing limbs."Listen up, you ignorant whelp," Brutus snarled, fangs bared inches from the krogan's face. "I've gutted varren that put up more of a fight than you. You are nothing but a pup, wet behind the ears!"

The krogan's eyes blazed with fury, muscles bulging as he strained against Brutus's hold. For a moment, it seemed he might submit, might acknowledge Brutus's dominance. But then his gaze hardened, and with a bellow of defiance, he headbutted Brutus square in the face.

Brutus reeled back, blood spurting from his shattered snout. The krogan seized the opening, driving a knee into Brutus's groin and shoving him away. Brutus stumbled, his vision swimming as he fought to stay upright.

With a surge of biotic power, Brutus slammed the krogan against the bulkhead again, the metal denting under the force. The krogan roared in pain and rage, his struggles intensifying. But Brutus held fast, his claws digging into the krogan's thick hide.

"You think you know strength? You know nothing!" Brutus growled, his fangs inches from the krogan's face. "True strength comes from within, from the trials and battles that shape us. You haven't even begun to live!"

"I am KROGAN," the krogan ground out, blood seeping from his mouth. "Tank-bred by the warlord Okeer. I know no fear, no weakness. I am krogan!" He said again, reaffirming his statement.

Brutus snorted derisively. "You don't know shit, pup. Real strength isn't just in the genetic makeup. It's in the living, the fighting, the bleeding." He shoved Grunt back roughly. "You want that strength? Then you follow Shepard."

Grunt's head swiveled to regard the commander, eyes narrowed calculatingly. "This human is a great warrior? Worthy to command me?"

Shepard stepped forward, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Listen up, krogan. I am Commander Shepard, and I don't have time for your posturing bullshit. I brought you onto my ship because I saw potential in you. But if you can't get your head out of your ass and fall in line, I will personally toss you out the airlock."

The krogan's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of respect passing over his brutish features. "You... dare to command me? To challenge my strength?"

Shepard's jaw tightened. "Damn right I do. I've faced down threats that would make your quad shrivel up and fall off. Geth, The Reapers, the Collectors, they're coming for us all. I handpicked this crew, the best of the best, to take on a threat that endangers the entire galaxy. And that includes Brutus."

She gestured to the hulking werewolf, still restraining the newborn krogan. "He's one of the most fearsome warriors I've ever fought beside. His strength and savagery in battle are unmatched. If he thinks you need to shape up and follow my lead, you'd be wise to step in-line, whelp."

Grunt's icy blue eyes darted between Shepard and Brutus, processing this new information. Slowly, grudgingly, he relaxed in Brutus's grip, the fight draining out of him.

"I…will follow your lead, Shepard," he rumbled, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. "If you are as great a warrior as this one says, then your strength is worthy of a true krogan, just don't expect me to be buddy-buddy with the rest of the crew, I'm here to fight."

Brutus released him with a warning growl and Grunt straightened to his full imposing height.

Shepard met his gaze unflinchingly. "Fighting is exactly what I'm offering you. A chance to test your strength against the most dangerous enemies in the galaxy."

That caught the krogan's attention. He leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm listening, Shepard."

"We're on a mission to stop the Collectors," Shepard explained, her voice ringing with conviction. "They've been abducting entire human colonies, and we're going to put an end to it. But there's a good chance this might be a one way trip. We need the best of the best."

The krogan's lips pulled back in a fierce grin. "A suicide mission? Now you're speaking my language."

Brutus watched the exchange silently, his keen senses attuned to every shift in the krogan's posture. The tension in his muscles betrayed his readiness to intervene if necessary, but Shepard seemed to be holding her own.

"So, you'll join us?" Shepard asked, making sure he was onboard. allowing a note of hope to creep into her voice.

The krogan nodded, a decisive jerk of his head. "As long as you point me towards the strongest enemies, I'll fight for you, Shepard."

Relief washed over Shepard, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Glad to have you on board. What's your name, krogan?"

He blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I… don't have one, Okeer thought a name was unimportant in the tanks details."

Brutus chimed in, his nose now already healed from the broken state it was in. "Having no designated name isn't so bad, It just means that your one more step towards actually living."

Shepard considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Grunt. That's what we'll call you for now."

"Grunt," the krogan repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. "I like it."

With that, Grunt turned and lumbered away, presumably to find a place to settle in. Shepard watched him go, a mix of satisfaction and trepidation churning in her gut. She glanced over at Brutus, who met her gaze with a wry quirk of his lips.

"You sure know how to pick them, Shepard," he rumbled, amusement coloring his tone.

Shepard chuckled, the sound tinged with weariness. "Let's just hope I didn't bite off more than we can chew."

Later, in the quiet of her cabin, Shepard found herself pacing restlessly. The events of the day weighed heavily on her mind, and she found herself craving a friendly ear. Almost without conscious thought, she found herself opening a comm channel.

"Brutus? You busy?"

His deep, familiar voice crackled over the line. "For you, Shepard? Never."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Come up to my cabin? I could use some company."

"On my way."

Minutes later, the door hissed open, admitting Brutus's imposing form. Shepard felt some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders at the sight of him, a reaction that was becoming increasingly common in his presence.

Brutus settled himself on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping under his considerable weight. Shepard joined him, their shoulders brushing companionably.

Brutus's closeness was an immediate balm to Shepard's frayed nerves. His physical presence alone radiated a steady strength and reassurance that she desperately needed after the chaos of their mission on Korlus. She leaned into him slightly, savoring the solid warmth of his body against hers.

"Quite the day, huh?" she said wryly, glancing up at him.

Brutus grunted in agreement. "That's putting it mildly. Between the Blue Suns, Okeer's pet project, and our new baby krogan, I'd say we've had our hands full."

Shepard sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Tell me about it. I just keep thinking...what if I made the wrong call? Bringing an unknown like Grunt on board, especially after what happened with Okeer..."

She trailed off, doubt creeping into her voice. Brutus shifted, turning to face her more fully. His yellow-violet eyes were intense but understanding as they met hers.

"You made the best choice you could with the information you had," he rumbled reassuringly. "That's all any of us can do. And for what it's worth, I think Grunt will be a valuable asset. Kid's got a quad, that's for sure."

Shepard chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of her cabin. "You're right, as usual. I just hope Grunt can channel that aggression into something productive. The last thing we need is a rampaging krogan tearing up my ship."

Brutus's lips quirked in a wry smile. "I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he stays in line. Besides, I think the kid respects strength. He may be a handful, but he'll follow your lead."

As Shepard leaned into Brutus, his fur felt like a plush blanket, each strand soft and velvety to the touch. It had a slight cushion to it. Each strand perfectly groomed and silky, the tips brushing against her skin like a gentle caress. It carried the faint hint of earthiness, the scent of rich soil and rugged terrain, relishing the solid comfort of his presence. She couldn't help but marvel at the way he always seemed to know just what to say to ease her doubts and bolster her resolve. It was a rare gift, one she'd come to value more than she cared to admit.

"What would I do without you, Brutus?" she murmured, half to herself.

Brutus turned his head, his breath warm against her hair as he spoke. "Let's hope you never have to find out."

There was a roughness to his voice, a raw edge of emotion that sent a shiver down Shepard's spine. She tilted her face up to his, their noses nearly brushing. This close, she could make out every detail of his wolfish features, from the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin and fur, to the burning intensity of his gaze.

In a moment of comfortable silence, Shepard's hand found its way to Brutus's, resting atop it almost without thought. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them at the contact, and Shepard felt her cheeks heat.

with a blossoming warmth that had nothing to do with the battle earlier. Brutus's hand was rough, calloused from years of combat, but the fur still left softness to enjoy, his touch was gentle as it enveloped hers. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, Shepard allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of what it might be like to explore the tension that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface with Brutus.

"When did this start feeling so natural?" she wondered, her heart doing a curious little flip in her chest.

As the evening wore on, Shepard found herself stifling a yawn. Brutus, ever observant, took this as his cue to leave.

Shepard stood with him, her movements languid and reluctant. "Thanks for coming up. I needed this." Brutus nodded, his eyes holding hers in a gaze that was almost palpable. "Anytime, Shepard."

Before he could turn to leave, Shepard reached out, her fingers skimming over the back of his hand, a fleeting touch, but laden with unspoken words. She wasn't quite ready for the connection to be severed; it was as if some primal part of her craved the electricity of his presence. "Stay?," she breathed, the single word hanging between them like a dare.

Brutus turned his head ever so slightly, "I think I have enough experience to predict where this would be heading~" He softened his K9 features, before softly brushing her hair back, "You should get some rest Shepard… It's been a long week. But don't worry, I read you. There's always a tomorrow~"

With a faint, almost reluctant nod, Shepard conceded to the moment, her eyes betraying the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within. "Tomorrow," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brutus reached out almost to quick after her disheartened, griping her shoulders ever so gently with his massive, furry hands. "That look is unbecoming of you commander~ You should know that the sweetest fruit needs patience~." Brutus leaned forward and licked her ear, before letting out a deep chuckle.

Shepard's breath hitched as she felt Brutus's tongue flicking at the sensitive inner flesh of her ear. Her heart pounded in her chest as he pulled back, his face tightening into a wolfish smirk that made her stomach cartwheel. "I guess we'll see," she managed to croak out. The silence stretched between them, palpable and electric. before Brutus finally stepped away, releasing Shepard from the intensity of his grasp. The space where his hands had been seemed suddenly cold, and Shepard silently cursed the part of her that already missed the heat.

"Get some sleep, Commander," Brutus said, voice low and gruff. "Tomorrow's another day to howl at the stars."

With that, he turned and left Shepard's quarters, his heavy footsteps gradually fading into the hum of the Normandys corridors. Alone now, Shepard sighed and glanced around her quiet room. The charged atmosphere lingered like a phantom touch, teasing at her senses and leaving her restless.

Shepard's quarters felt colder now, emptier somehow. It was as if Brutus's departure had siphoned away some vital warmth that she hadn't realized she'd been basking in. Shaking off the clinging threads of longing and fatigue, Shepard moved towards her bed.

There was work to be done tomorrow, more battles to fight, more lives to save. The galaxy wouldn't pause for their unresolved tensions or unspoken desires. But as sleep finally claimed her, it was not the cold expanse of space that filled her dreams but the heat of Brutus's gaze and the promise of a tomorrow yet to come.

I'm sorry for such a long delay :( I wanted to release this so much sooner, this was originally supposed to be 2 chapters, but I decided against making it even longer for release.

Next chapter is JACK!, and I have a feeling that the first lemon may be lurking closer than expected and planned…