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Voyeur of Voyeurs

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Fuck you, cheerleader.”

Jack’s fury filled the comm room, and Miranda rolled her eyes at the other woman’s helpless rage. “I told you Jack, I really don’t have time to indulge you right now.”

“Wrong answer,” Jack rounded the table, flares of biotic power arcing off of her. “I wanna get off. Let me get off!”

Miranda wondered how long it had been for Jack, and her perfect mind supplied the answer: six days, fourteen hours and thirty-eight minutes ago, give or take a few seconds, in a filthy back alley in Omega’s markets while a pack of Vorcha watched. Miranda had decided she needed something to entertain herself while Shepard was off shopping, and Jack’s look of disgust had been all the incentive she could have asked for.

But that was then and this was now and Shepard’s discovery that the Collectors were Protheans had repercussions that were far more important than Jack’s desperate need to rut. Not for the first time it occurred to Miranda that programming Subject Zero to be compliant to sexual authority might not have been the best idea in the long run, however amusing it was at the time.

“Fine!” she snapped. “You want to come so badly? Go fuck Grunt. Don’t let me see you again until you do.” That should keep her away. If he was like every other Krogan, Grunt’s member would be massive enough to give even Jack pause.

Instead, Jack’s eyes narrowed; first with suspicion, then with cunning. “And then you’ll make me come?”

“Yes, of course.” Miranda rolled her eyes. “And don’t think you can get away with half-assing it either. You’d best be able to tell me that it was the best sex he will ever have in his short little life. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Without a word, Jack turned on her heel and left. Miranda watched her go before turning her attention back to the hologram of Collector and Prothean DNA projected over the table. The aliens were outside any chance of help, but it might be possible to introduce retroviral DNA modifications that could preemptively head off the Reapers’ attempts to do the same thing to humans…

“Operative Lawson.”

Miranda turned her baleful gaze to the blue sphere EDI used to represent itself. “What,” she demanded slowly. “Is it?”

“One of the sets of conditions you asked me to monitor have been met. You asked to be informed of this eventuality.”

“Oh really?” That caught her attention, and she straightened. “Which condition?”

The image of DNA chains vanished, replaced by a view of the armory taken from her favorite hidden camera. Jacob lay out on the floor, shirt off, in the midst of his afternoon workout. He was at about two hundred crunches in, Miranda guessed. The sweat on his brow was a giveaway; he didn’t start sweating until at least one hundred and fifty, and began sweating profusely after around two seventy-five. A faint smile ghosted across her lips; the first time they spent together -and really together, not just running down one crisis or another- she hadn’t believed his boasts about how he worked out and demanded he show her. He’d bested what she had assumed to be gross exaggerations, and still had the strength afterwards to bed her in such a way to leave her exhausted, sore and fulfilled in a way she hadn’t quite ever experienced since.

“All well and good,” Miranda said, her voice catching a bit, “but I don’t have any conditions regarding Mr. Taylor’s workout.” She considered a moment. “Anymore.”

“Allow me to create a composite image by integrating mass displacement, olfaction and ultraviolet scans into the visual.” The hologram shuttered as EDI layered on additional information, and calmed as extraneous information was filtered back out. What emerged was a ghostly image of a woman perched on the edge of the workbench, knees spread lewdly and hands busily at work between her legs.

“Kasumi, you randy little thing,” Miranda chuckled. “Good work, EDI.”

“Of course, Operative Lawson.”

The woman in the hologram masturbated slowly, keeping time with Jacob’s sit ups, Miranda realized. Even through the image Miranda could see that Kasumi’s eyes were transfixed on the slab of muscle of Jacob’s belly. At another time Miranda would be more than a bit distracted herself, but for now her attention was regrettably drawn to the petite woman. Kasumi was taking great pains to remain quiet, biting her lip as she shifted her hands and beginning to thrust her middlemost two fingers inside herself. “How long has she been there?” Miranda asked.

“Approximately eight minutes,” EDI answered immediately. “She entered the armory via one of the access tunnels. I did not think it wise to interrupt your discussion with Subject Zero.”

“No, that was wise,” Miranda murmured. “EDI? Have you been tracking Kasumi’s movements on Normandy?”

“I have.”

“Has she done something like this before?”

“I have recorded seventeen distinct instances in which Kasumi was present for and observing the sexual encounters of other individuals without the individuals’ knowledge. I believe that Commander Shepard and Yeoman Chambers’ encounter from three days ago and Dr. Chakwas’ lengthy ice brandy-driven self-pleasuring last night would be particularly pertinent to your interests.”

“Forward them to my console,” Miranda replied distractedly. In the holo Jacob rose, sending Kasumi silently scrambling out of reach. He stretched back out on the floor, starting his endless series of pushups. Kasumi leaned against the bulkhead, watching the muscles in Jacob’s back flex and slipping her hand back into her pants.

Miranda found her own eyes drifting down to Jacob’s ass, and knew she wasn’t going to get anything productive done for some time yet. “EDI? Locate Commander Shepard.”

“Commander Shepard is on deck one.”

“Is he alone?”

Instead of answering the hologram before her shifted. Chambers stood naked at the foot of Shepard’s bed, hands clasped behind her head and feet spread shoulder-length apart. Miranda could see her tension in the faint quivering of her belly, along with the angry red welts along her thighs and breasts. Shepard stood before Chambers, frankly appraising her. He held a thin strip of plastic in his palms; a switch, Miranda realized.

“Every human colony, starting with Luna,” Shepard said. “Start again.”

Chambers nodded sharply. “Luna. Lowell City, Mars. Demeter. Shanx-” She stifled a cry as the switch came down across her hip, the plastic wrapping around to mark her ass.

“What did you get wrong?” he asked.

Terra Nova,” Chambers gasped. “Luna, Lowell City, Demeter, Terra Nova, Shanxi, Elysium…”

“That’s better,” Shepard caressed her cheek, wiping away a single tear. “You can tell me all about alien psychology, but you can’t name the first ten human colonies without help. That’s disappointing, Kelly. You’re human, you need to remember that.”

“I do, sir,” she answered immediately. “Thank you, sir.” Shepard nodded, and Chambers ventured to speak again. “Sir?”

“Yes, Kelly?”

“If you’re satisfied with my performance, for now, could we fuck?”

Shepard smiled at that and unfastened his pants, seating himself at the edge of his bed. “Relax,” he ordered, and Chambers’ arms dropped to her sides. “Come here.” As Chambers moved to straddle him Miranda could see crossed red marks across her back as well; naming more colonies, she wondered, or reciting mass relay coordinates or something similarly difficult to answer? However Chambers had earned those welts, Miranda was positive it was for failing at some impossible task. If Shepard was asking her questions she knew the answer, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to flog her.

The angle of the camera provided Miranda a view of Chambers’ back as she rocked back and forth on Shepard’s cock, as well as Shepard’s expression over her shoulder. His hands gripped at her hips, guiding her motion against him as he growled low in his throat. There was a responding moan, and Miranda surprised herself with the realization that she didn’t know if the moan came from Chambers or herself.

“Lock the door, EDI,” Miranda said, pulling open her tunic. She had no interest in foreplay or build-up; she sighed as her first two fingers slid wetly around her clit. In the image hovering over the table Shepard snarled, pushing down hard on Chambers hips as he shuddered his orgasm into her. Chambers’ own fingers were fast at work on herself, and a moment later she let out a quavering shout, sagging against him. Together they fell back on to the bed, and Miranda didn’t miss the affection with which Shepard stroked her arm.

They were satiated, but Miranda wasn’t even close herself. “What else is there?”

“Current or historical?”

A wry grin quirked the corner of Miranda’s mouth. “Surprise me.”

The hologram disappeared, replaced by a view of the starboard cargo bay with a timestamp of several weeks ago, and what she saw certainly did surprise her. Zaeed leaned in his customary place against the wall, as he had every other time Miranda checked the surveillance in his room, only this time he was joined by Normandy’s chief engineers, both naked as the day they were born. Ken Donnelly was on his knees, diligently doing his damndest to suck Zaeed straight to orgasm and Gabby Daniels was nestled in close under Zaeed’s arm, her hand ruffling Ken’s hair as he worked.

“Reminds me of this one time,” Zaeed rumbled. “I was out in the Traverse doing corporate security; damn quiet work as a body guard for some bigwig and his family.”

“Does everything remind you of a story?” Gabby asked. “Ken’s an artist of the blowjob and you’re not appreciating it.”

“I’ll show my appreciation in just a minute,” Zaeed replied easily. “Anyway, after a month of this I was bored out of my mind and after one night of particularly hard drinking I decided to make a pass at the boss’s wife. Ordinarily a horrible idea, but in this particular case I found that she was more than receptive to my idea…and that her husband was just as bored as I was. Wasn’t the first time I got myself into a threesome, but definitely one of the more memorable.” He glanced down at Ken. “Though you’re making a strong showing yourself, for someone who claimed to never lose at Skyllian Five.”

“Don’t get too proud of yourself,” Gabby said drily. “Ken’s been known to lose bets on purpose before.” Miranda made a mental note to track down the outcomes of any other lost bets.

“’at’s a good boy, yes,” Zaeed leered. “Gabby, if you’d be a dear.” His hand replaced Gabby’s in Ken’s hair and he pulled his cock from the other man’s mouth. Gabby stroked his length purposefully fast and Zaeed let out a long sigh as his come jetted out, splashing against Ken’s cheek. Zaeed grinned down at his work, and cleared his throat. “Now, if you would be so kind as to fuck your friend here, I’d be much obliged and I believe your gambling debts will be paid off in full.”

“Operative Lawson?”

“Quiet, I want to see this,” Miranda snapped, watching Gabby lay herself out over Ken on the floor, settling down on his cock.

“Subject Zero appears to be making surprising headway towards completing your directive.”

“What?” Miranda frowned. “Show me.” The image shifted again, this time showing the opposite cargo room with a current timestamp. At first all she could see was Grunt hunched over on the floor, but after an instant she realized someone was under him -Jack was under him- and being fucked hard.

Come on!” Jack was screaming. “Come on, you fucking dinosaur! Do me!” Grunt didn’t seem to have a tank imprint for tender love making, or maybe the Krogan were all just savages. He arched over Jack, his hips working like merciless pistons.

“Are all human women this talkative?” he grumbled.

Miranda leaned closed to the holo, trying to pick out Jack’s face under the mass of Krogan. She caught a glimpse, just for a moment as Grunt changed his position for better leverage, and the expression of fierce determination on Jack’s face sent a thrill through Miranda. “She’s actually doing it,” she murmured, her fingers starting to work over her clit.

In the image, Jack seemed to be fucking back with equal force. Grunt pressed his weight down on her before ramming into her and holding himself deep. “That’s it,” Jack panted, “that’s fucking it, shoot the whole quad in me.”

They stayed locked like that for a moment before Grunt rose. Jack crawled to her feet a moment later, her thighs slick with Grunt’s spending. “Don’t think this means we’re dating,” she snarled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grunt rumbled back. “Still. Not bad, for a human.” Jack didn’t bother answering him, just flipping him off as she stamped out of the cargo bay. It took Miranda a moment to realize she’d left without even the few concessions she usually made to clothing.

“Shit,” Miranda muttered. “EDI, how long is it going to take Jack to get here?”

“Subject Zero is already in the lift, reaching deck three. I could stall the lift…”

“No, let her come.” Miranda straightened and considered fixing her uniform before deciding not to bother. She didn’t have anything to hide from Jack.

The doors to the comm room parted and Jack strode inside, proud, angry, bow-legged and completely naked but for her tattoos. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you that wandering out the ship looking extremely well-used and without any clothes on might violate several Cerberus regulations?” Miranda asked drily.

“Fuck your regulations,” the other woman snapped back. “I did it. You thought I couldn’t take a Krogan, but I did.” Jack raised an eyebrow at Miranda’s undone uniform. “You catch the show?”

Instead of answering, Miranda advanced on the other woman, backing her against the closed door. She could smell Grunt on her, and the knowledge that her toy had been so roughly used at her command sent a throb through Miranda. Crouching before Jack, she trailed her fingertips up the thick wetness coating Jack’s thighs before curling her fingers into a fist and pushing her knuckles against the other woman’s lower lips. The smaller woman held Miranda’s eyes defiantly, even as Miranda’s fist sank into her with little resistance. “I’ll admit I didn’t think it possible,” Miranda allowed, pulling her hand free and rising. “How?”

“Little determination, little biotics, lotta lubing up with medigel first.” Jack raised her chin. “I did what you wanted. Make me come.”

Miranda response was instant; she slapped Jack hard across the cheek, the smack made more resounding by the smear of Krogan semen and Jack’s own lubrication left behind. Fury smoldered in Jack’s eyes, but she checked herself. “I’m sorry. Would you, please, let me come?” Miranda’s biotics lashed out, laying Jack out on the floor. Before her toy could rise Miranda stripped completely out of her uniform and straddled Jack’s face.

“Look at me,” Miranda demanded, the rush of lust forcing her words out in a tumble. “Look at me, God damn you. I come, you come. You understand?” She lowered her hips, rubbing her wet slit crudely against Jack’s face. “Do you?” Jack’s only answer was to lock her lips around Miranda’s clit, the very tip of her tongue tracing patterns that made Miranda’s eyes flutter. In only moments the frenzied windstorm of orgasm lifted her off her feet, and when Miranda came back to herself a moment later she was flat on her back, panting as her body trembled back to calm. A few feet away Jack had given up any shred of civility and bucked against her own hands, one rubbing hard against her clit and the other deep inside herself; with a shriek Jack arched off the floor and crashed back down, a low, satisfied moan the only sign of life from her.

Miranda pulled herself upright. “EDI?”

“Yes, Operative Lawson?”

“I trust your surveillance systems caught that?”

“They did, Operative Lawson.”

She nodded, still catching her breath. “Have the video forwarded to my console.”

Miranda struggled back into her uniform, taking a moment to wipe her glove off on Jack’s side. Her hair would be irreparable without a shower, but she was a presentable as she could be. Leaving Jack passed out on the floor, Miranda left the comm room and turned left to the armory. Jacob had moved on to the squat thrust phase of his workout, and Miranda tried to guess where Kasumi would position herself for the best view. By the heavy weapon table, she decided.

“Miranda,” Jacob said, rising. “Good to see you. Jack went by here a few minutes ago, looking crazier and nakeder than usual.”

“She’s been dealt with,” Miranda answered crisply.

“You know what she got so worked up about?”

“Of course. There is nothing that happens on Normandy that I don’t know about,” Miranda replied, turning casually to face the heavy weapons bench. Did she imagine it, or was that a tell-tale distortion in the air? “I’m always watching.”