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Te Quiero Mucho

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Shepard was propped against the headboard, fighting sleep, and trying to slog his way through the latest report on troop movements from Admiral Hackett. Not that it wasn't important, but he sorta wished that he could just say to hell with it and go to sleep. It was hard to remember the last time he'd had a good night's rest. Since the war started, he'd been on the go, nonstop, putting out fires all over the damned galaxy as if he were the only soldier the Alliance had left, as if he couldn't be of better use somewhere else. It was his own damned fault for not ever being able to say no to anyone, he supposed.

 

Midway through a yawn, the bathroom door swished open and James came sauntering out wrapped in nothing but a towel. John had forgotten the man was even in there – a bad sign in his book. He wasn't sure if it was exhaustion or just that his brain was on overload, but he'd missed out on a prime opportunity there. James was a specimen, no doubt, but James in the shower – huge, powerful muscles slicked with water as it cascaded down his body – was truly a sight to behold. The way his body trembled at John's touch, quivering in anticipation, as steam clouds billowed around their heads, muffling everything, increasing the delirious euphoria, was nothing short of poetic, and if Shepard had any way with a pen whatsoever, he could and would write volumes on the lone subject of shower sex with James Vega.

 

He sighed and tossed the datapad down on his blanket covered lap.

 

James grinned at him, letting the towel drop away, and John's sapphire eyes swept the length of him. A wide smile spread his lips, and he was already getting hard just by imagining all the things he wanted to do to James right now. When the younger man was only a few steps from the bed, he took a flying leap, landing with a hard bounce and nearly jostling John right out onto the floor, grinning as he wrapped a strong arm around Shepard's waist to keep him in place. Their heads knocked together, and they fell onto the bed, giggling and sprinkling kisses here and there.

 

James was fun. Something Shepard's life had been sorely missing before he'd met the man. And right this minute, he was warm and comfortable. His skin was pink and hot from the shower, and John just couldn't resist nuzzling against the broad expanse of his chest. He smelled so good – clean, with a hint of citrus from the soap, underlined with that essence that was so uniquely James and made him think of coming home. Shepard breathed it in, letting it soak into his soul and soothe the threadbare edges of his nerves and brain.

 

Steady, muscled arms enveloped him, drawing him in until the world faded and there was nothing in the universe but this – the two of them wrapped around each other and holding on as if their very lives depended on it. And maybe they did. Maybe Shepard needed this touch, this connection, more than he'd ever needed anything else in his entire life, because the thought of living without it made him sick and terrified, though he wouldn't dare admit it.

 

His eyes drifted closed as he inhaled deeply, cementing the feeling of being safe and loved and protected into the deepest parts of him. His eyes stayed closed just a little too long, and he felt, more than heard, James' huff of laughter. And despite how he'd just been imagining delicious and naughty things that he and James could do together, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and end this bliss of just lying here so snug and cozy. Instead, he burrowed closer, naked bodies pressing tight against one another, arms and legs tangling together.

 

The last thing his waking brain registered was another soft kiss to his head and a murmured, “Love you, Loco.”