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By the time they had boarded the Normandy, Kaidan’s demeanor had plummeted from dark disappointment into something much worse. The research regarding a breakthrough in the L2 implants had been a promising lead, something they’d been investigating for the better part of two weeks, but finding the data corrupted after spending three hours crawling through the mess of a derelict lab swarming with varren had rendered a rare effect on the Major.
He had lost his control.
Shepard doesn’t even bother shedding his armor to be gutted and cleaned. Kaidan’s silent disquiet snares his attention like the fishhook it is, and Shepard motions for Wrex to leave the two of them alone in the shuttle bay so Kaidan can work through his upcoming emotional acrimony in privacy. The krogan, surprisingly, follows Shepard’s orders with no quip, casting stony, knowing eyes to the workbench, where Kaidan is gripping the edge like he may lose himself if not grounded.
The rest of the Normandy has already been briefed on the mission’s failure, and any remaining hanger bay personnel depart quickly, a quiet show of the respect and empathy they carry for their officers. Shepard will find a way to thank them for their consideration later, but right now, his focus is on his friend, who just lost the smallest inkling of hope he’d allowed himself since the L2’s were abandoned in favor of the far more stabilized L3’s.
Shepard approaches him with forced ease, wary of treating his XO with any fragile, sympathetic wordplay that would further entice Kaidan’s fight or flight instinct.
“EDI has the data," he offers, keeping his voice firm and rigid. "She’ll salvage what she can. We’ve got some names of people that worked on the project -- we’ll track them down, see if they have anything saved.”
“You know they won’t,” Kaidan replies, eyes dead set on the workbench in front of him, shoulders tense and pulled tight. “Privately funded project like that? The data’s gone, Shepard.”
“Hey,” Shepard tries, going for stern, hitting something a little closer to coercion. “We’ve got intel, so let’s work it--”
Kaidan pushes away hard, eyes already alight with the biotics that put him into this position in the first place -- a sure sign of his teetering control. “I shouldn’t have made you follow that lead. Fool’s hope. I just thought, for a minute, that I--” he stops, hands behind his head as he forcibly steadies his breathing, trying to cool his frustration. His hair is sticky with sweat, untamed, and beginning to curl. His armor creaks as he moves, the only sound outside of the hum of the Normandy’s drive core. “I was personally invested,” he mutters, angry with himself, angry with the world, angry at the absence of something to blame. “...and I shouldn’t have been.”
“Your personal investment didn’t cause that lost data, Kaidan,” Shepard reasons, voice hard to combat Kaidan’s rising fury. “Alliance dropped the ball when they scrubbed BAaT from their records, I’ll give you that, but whatever data we could have found wouldn’t be able to fix your implant, not completely. You know that.”
“You don’t get it, Shepard,” Kaidan snaps, and there’s a dangerous aura around the Major’s form that swells to life, the barest hints of what lingers beneath. His voice is sharp, hovering the edges of tolerance. “I know I can’t fix it! But if that data could have found a way to make them just a little more stable, even just a fraction, it could have changed public opinion.” He stops, biting his lip in frustration, eyes to the ceiling. “...Most of the L2s are dead, you know that? Lot of them died within the first few years. Lost their minds, had to be put down or committed. Good majority of them put a bullet in their heads. One guy opted for the removal surgery, but it, uh, paralyzed the left half of his body.” Kaidan laughs bitterly, and the sound is too loud in the space between them, bordering too close to pain. “Everyone sees me as some kind of… historic warning label for future biotics. Make sure you test it fully before you implant it!” Kaidan mocks fiercely, throwing out his hands as if addressing a lecture hall, “Otherwise you get these messed up pieces of shit!”
“Kaidan, stop it,” Shepard chastises firmly, feeling his own anger rise at the reminders, at the less-than-stellar reactions of colleagues who watch Kaidan too closely and question Shepard’s safety. “No one here thinks of you that way. You’re a damn fine soldier. Hell, you’re a Spectre, Kaidan! I know the migraines are--”
“Fuck the migraines,” Kaidan snaps again, and the shock of it knocks Shepard into silence. Kaidan rarely curses, and the sound of those words are foreign between them, something intimate and privately shared in the security of their history. “I’m so tired of people knowing what I can do, and giving me distance because of it,” Kaidan elaborates, tone brutal and cold in a way Shepard has only seen of him on the battlefield, in the midst of combat, when he’s not scrutinized for letting his composure waiver. “Of course people respect me, Shepard. They’re probably worried what I’d do to them if they don’t!”
Shepard feels it before he sees it. Kaidan’s eyes burn deep-- less like a blaze, and more like a simmering promise, a personification of the Major himself. You burn too bright, you fade out fast; but Kaidan is steady, a power so stabilized that even the smallest bursts of showmanship outshine all others. Shepard’s skin tingles with it, a current not unlike electricity stretching across his skin, running along his nerves and smothering them until they overtake all neural input. And still, Kaidan maintains his distance, aware of his leaking biotics, and for once, not giving a damn.
“--And yet, who am I to look a gift like this in the face and see the flaws?” he continues, a growl in his words as he paces. “Who am I to make my mother feel worse than she already does by looking for a fix? To question whether all of this power is worth people’s fear? An L3 doesn’t have the power I do, sure, but no one ever questions their control--”
“Kaidan--” Shepard interrupts, but it’s shaky; he can feel the heat of biotics resounding deep in his chest, filling up the bare parts of him he hadn’t known were empty. A telltale blue shimmer encases the air between them, stifling Shepard’s thoughts, and selfishly, all he can think about is how comforting it is to know he’s not the most powerful person in the room. To know that Kaidan is an exceptionally capable marine, and he could rip Shepard apart with the flick of his expression if he chose to.
“Don’t start, Shepard--!”
“Alenko!” Shepard says, stern as he can manage with the current coursing through him. The biotics aren’t violent, or threatening, not like when he’s fought rogue asari whose mass effect fields burst out of them with little purpose or direction. But they’re not soft and docile either, not like when Liara floats a stray datapad over to her workspace, too busy typing to bother getting up to fetch it. No, the raw, focused power that radiates from Kaidan is unlike any of the other biotics Shepard’s known, and its presence tangles his words in his mouth. But the surname draws Kaidan’s attention, as he hasn’t been “Alenko” to Shepard in years, not even in combat.
“This was a blow,” Shepard starts, breath heavy in his chest as he shivers through Kaidan’s lingering heat, feeling him in the very air he breathes. “I know that. But the moment you start comparing yourself to some asshole with an L3 is the moment you lose yourself. You’ve had to work damn hard for the kind of control the L3’s have, and that’s a dedication I won’t trade, that you shouldn’t trade. You’ve earned the power you have,” he reminds him with a growl, trying not to grit his teeth together.
Kaidan, however, isn't ready to be bowled over. “These implants are notorious, Shepard. The power these L2’s can channel, it’s like holding a wildfire in my hands. People are terrified of me!” Kaidan snaps, and with the words, a flare of biotics warps out of him, controlled enough to only rustle a few papers on the edge of the tables, but strong enough to hit Shepard like a brick to the chest, shorting his breath, sending his nerves into confused protest all along his skin. Kaidan stares him down, armor coated in blood and radiating a power he so rarely lets the world see.
“Good,” Shepard breathes, and it comes out heady, the smallest hint of the unexpected arousal that’s about to bring him to his knees. “They should be.”
And maybe it wasn’t the answer Kaidan was expecting. Or maybe he can read something in Shepard’s expression that renders his anger a sudden backburner concern. Either way, Kaidan moves towards him, slowly, watching as Shepard tries to hide the involuntary reactions of feeling the source of those biotics come steadily closer. There are no waves, no peaks and lows that usually accompany biotic flares; there is only Kaidan and his fine-tuned control, his grip around his powers so proficient and precise that even the tingling on Shepard’s skin feels personal in a way another’s biotics never could.
“Are you afraid of me, Shepard?” Kaidan asks, low and dangerous, and maybe they’ve been friends for too long, skirting the edges of something beyond that, but Kaidan saves challenging Shepard for moments he knows he can get away with it. With a flick of his wrist, Shepard is overwhelmed, momentarily stunned by the force that moves to wrap around his body, leaving his skin feeling exposed and raw, his breath stolen from his lungs, his muscles drawn tight against the onslaught of sensation.
It’s a blatant demonstration of Kaidan’s power, calling his Commander’s bluff, and Shepard knows it. He knows Kaidan’s turmoil, his inner battle of embracing the ability his L2 implant gives him, while learning to respect the distance people ask him to keep in exchange for it. He knew Kaidan was going to have a breakdown of some kind or another during this mission, but he hadn’t expected--
well--
“No,” he answers, begging his body to remain neutral, willing away his reaction to Kaidan’s power and the Major’s absolute control over it; silently praying Kaidan isn’t as smart as Shepard knows he is. “--Nobody I trust more than you, Kaidan. I shouldn’t have to say that.”
Kaidan’s eyes flick down his form, taking him in, watching him roll through the effects of Kaidan’s biotics with as much grace as Shepard can muster. The answer seems to calm him, at least, and the premonitory glow deep in his eyes flickers in surprise.
“No,” Kaidan mutters, his anger fading in minuscule increments to something neutral, something carefully composed. “I guess you don’t have to say it.”
In an instant, the field between them is gone, Kaidan’s emotional state leveled out enough for the biotics to dissipate at his will, and the sudden emptiness sucker punches Shepard hard enough that he lets out a small, almost embarrassing sound of surprise. Of disappointment . The corners of Kaidan’s lips twitch, as though he recognizes it for what it is.
“I’ll be upstairs with Garrus if you need me,” Kaidan says easily, as though finalizing a normal conversation. He finally moves away, beginning to unbuckle his chest piece as he goes. “He mentioned replacing some of my armor with high-resistance bracers, which should help my maneuverability, as far as biotics go.” The chest piece comes off, and Kaidan leaves it on the sanitation table for the crew to decontaminate. “I need to stay as flexible as possible. Never know what situations might pop up and surprise you. Oh, and Commander,” he adds, turning back to Shepard as he heads towards the elevator, a small, still slightly damaged smile on his expression. “Thanks for the talk, and I, um, hope I didn’t overstep. I apologize for any insubordination, on my part.”
And he’s gone, the fresh, bright smell of eezo still lingering in his absence.
Shepard curses in the silence of the shuttle bay, knowing that his armor had hid his physical arousal well enough, but Kaidan had always been way more observant than anyone gave him credit for.
///
They’re in the middle of the horsehead nebula, waiting for reconnaissance from Captain Tinich, something that’s likely to take at least a day and a half. The resulting sit and wait order has left them all antsy and bored, nitpicking for arguments and taking brazen actions, just to spice up the day and let out some frustration. They’re all halfway through their third or fourth beer and second poker game when Shepard begins to wonder why no one else seems inclined to realize that Kaidan is secretly an absolute fucking menace.
Honestly, he’s great at poker, which should have been a dead giveaway, but no one plays against him except Vega, who cleans house with everyone, talented or not, so it went generally undiagnosed. He’s careful with his words as well, candid more than not, and none of his thoughts can be misconstrued to be anything other than what he means. His movements are calculated, determined to get his point across in the quickest way possible, boastful only in the way that pure efficiency can be.
And right now, Shepard is suffering from all three of those talents.
He’s down four hundred credits, and Vega is sitting pretty on twelve hundred. Liara, bless her, keeps asking for a refresher on the rules before managing to avoid Vega’s dominance by pulling lucky wins from the remainder of the table. Garrus is losing spectacularly, like Shepard, but he keeps reacting to his cards with various expressions, and his tells are louder than the questionable Batarian rap Vega has playing in the Lounge.
“I still don’t understand why the A is higher than the royalty,” Liara questions, peering at her cards as though inclined to study them. “Is it a card of wisdom? Akin to, perhaps, a spiritual advisor?”
“Aces used to be lows,” Kaidan explains, placing two chips down to call. “Essentially the ‘one’ of the deck. They still can be, depending on the rules and what region of Earth you’re on.”
“So, it is a card interchangeable,” Liara reasons. “It’s value depends on the person holding it, and the game that they are playing?”
“Yeah, humans have a phrase for that,” Vega chuckles, flipping over the next card (resulting in a groan from Garrus). “‘Eye of the beholder,’ you know? Personal opinion.”
“That’s not what that phrase means, is it?” Garrus interrupts, choosing to raise. “It was a measure of beauty, I thought. An art thing. You’re attractive because I’ve declared you attractive.”
“Aw, thanks Vakarian.”
Shepard wants to join the banter, but the moment Liara had made her deductions, he’d felt the twinge of biotics circling his calf, altering the atmosphere around his skin. He couldn’t avoid the twitch in his chair, his body conditioned to react to the slightest hint of something unexpected, but Kaidan’s small, almost completely silent huff of laughter had given him away as the culprit.
If anyone noticed Shepard’s reaction, or the stiffness of his shoulders afterward, they don't comment on it. He’s grateful that EDI has been banned from poker games, due to her tendency to read her opponent’s heart rates and react accordingly, because he’s sure she’d be staring him down right now in blatant concern.
“I believe you’re thinking of the human phrase, ‘one man’s trash is another man’s treasure,’” Liara adds, watching carefully as Kaidan honors Garrus’s raise. Kaidan, for his part, looks perfectly neutral, sitting easily across from Shepard, seemingly attentive to both the game and the conversation. The absolute bastard .
“That’s taking it a bit too literally,” Kaidan adds, not even allowing Shepard the satisfaction of meeting his eyes as he keeps his biotics focused on Shepard’s ankle underneath the table. “That implies one party declared an ace useless. Even as a low, the card still plays a part.”
“There’s a turian phrase as well,” Garrus continues, and Shepard tries his best to power through his confusion and places his own bet on the table once Vega is finished calling. It’s difficult, since Kaidan has such a domineering control over his biotics that not even a faint glow is present for something as small as a single stretch of force. “It translates vaguely to ‘trash was once undesirable, even if recycled.’”
“Pfft,” Vega reacts, scoffing. “Aces aren’t undesirable . Just because you’re at the bottom of the deck doesn’t mean you don’t have value. You’re still part of a set, yeah? Still needed.”
“In certain cases, bottoms are very desirable,” Kaidan interjects calmly, in that low, smokey bourbon voice, and reality hits Shepard hard that yes, this is happening, and yes, Kaidan knew exactly how Shepard had reacted to his biotics in the shuttle bay, only a week ago. The curl of current glides up his leg at the insinuation, leaving behind a charged expectation, the air of a storm before lightning strikes, and Shepard’s heart is in his throat.
Vega, always one to appreciate a good joke regardless of the fallout, makes a face of torn reactions before reaching over to high-five Kaidan. Liara lets out a bright laugh, throwing in an “Oh, as in sexual partners! That’s very funny,” which causes Garrus to chuckle under his breath.
“I raise,” Kaidan states clearly, interrupting the resulting clamor of his comment. He places twice the amount of bet on the table, eyes flicking up to meet Shepard’s.
And Shepard, who can think of a thousand reasons to shake his head ever so slightly, just enough to get his XO to back off and back down, finds that logic lacking in comparison to the mischief in Kaidan’s eyes. It’s been a long damn time since someone dared take control that wasn’t also trying to ultimately destroy him, and Shepard finds himself wanting for it like a drug, eager to submit himself to something he’d never been given the luxury to seek. Eager to watch Kaidan take on the role Shepard so unintentionally keeps commandeering from him, reverting Kaidan to the shadows of his Commander’s glory.
So, despite his better judgment and the staggering list of reasons why he shouldn’t, he shifts his hips in his chair, allowing his legs to part just slightly, as coy an invitation he can manage. Kaidan’s fingers twitch on his cards.
Shepard clears his throat and commits himself to acting normal. “There’s a turian phrase that’s relevant -- Garrus, correct me if I’m wrong --” he starts, honoring Vega’s raise. “Something like ‘Value lies within the use to the community, not the use to the individual.’”
Garrus shrugs, unimpressed. “It’s a bit more poetic than that, I’d argue, but that’s the gist. You can be as pretty as you’d like, but if you aren’t useful, you’re worthless. I fold.”
He puts his cards down, and across from him, Vega snorts. “You’re obsessed with the ‘pretty’ aspect, my friend. What’s on your mind? Fishing for a compliment?” He takes a swig of beer, too many bottles crowding the table between them, before nodding at Garrus’s discarded hand. “At least you’re learning, though,” he adds.
Garrus responds with something snarky, but Shepard doesn’t hear it. His attention has been forcibly wrangled from him and drawn under the table, where Kaidan’s biotics have wrapped themselves further up his leg, skirting the inseam of the denim against his knees, and his skin tingles against the onslaught. He wonders if four beers were maybe too many, or perhaps not enough, because if Kaidan keeps crawling his presence any higher, Shepard’s going to have to choose between apologizing to the room at large or finally perfecting his poker face.
“When Garrus folds, I’m inclined to fold as well,” Liara comments, laughing lightly. “I feel as though my confidence is shattered.”
“He’s terrible, Liara,” Vega snorts, “Don’t let him taint your beginner’s luck with his aging failure.”
“James, I’m going to kick your ass. I want you to take that quite literally. I’m going to ram my boot directly--”
“I raise,” Liara interrupts, pushing her chips forward and turning to smile at Kaidan, delighted by her own understanding of new terminology. “Will you match, Major?”
Kaidan hums like he’s not quite sure, and it mirrors the moment Shepard is certain that everyone who’s ever met Kaidan has severely misjudged him. Because as he removes the appropriate chips from his stack, prepared to call, laughing at some comment Garrus has muttered under his breath, he slides that invisible trail of biotics up between Shepard’s legs and presses against the fabric restraining Shepard’s rapidly hardening cock.
Shepard jerks, covering the motion by running a hand across his head, suffering through the eight seconds Kaidan manipulates the matter in the space between them to apply just enough pressure to momentarily blank out Shepard’s higher thought processes. And then he’s gone, moving up to trail inquisitively at the skin above his belt, leaving Shepard feeling charged and desperate for something more -- a featherlight touch when he wants nails biting into skin--
“Shepard?”
He snaps his attention up, and Vega is looking at him, eyebrow raised.
“You clocking out on us, Loco? Your turn.”
Shepard shakes himself, embarrassed, but no one’s seemed to notice except James. Garrus is pointing out something in Liara’s hand, offering her advice and statistical likelihood, and she is concentrating deeply, fully prepared to apply mathematical understanding if she can. Kaidan is also staring down at his cards, one hand supporting his head on the table as he smiles, incredibly pleased with himself.
“Yeah, sorry,” Shepard answers. “Long week. Beers are doing me in. I, uh…” he looks at his cards, glances to the ones at the table, and realizes he hasn’t been giving a damn about playing the game. Kaidan’s biotics have pulled away, cognizant of Shepard’s influence on his crew, unwilling to cross that boundary of respect now that consequences have come into play. Shepard misses it instantly, but he’s glad for Kaidan’s insight, because he didn’t think he had it in him to refuse Kaidan’s advances, and the idea of Kaidan getting him off under the table while he played cards with the men and women he commanded was something that didn’t sit well, mentally.
“I fold,” he answers finally, and he’s barely tossed his cards on the table before Joker comes over the intercom.
“Commander? I’ve got Captain Tinich on the line, says he’s requesting assistance on Schuttet. Things went south fast. ”
“Shit,” Shepard mutters, instantly switch-flipping back into the person he’s been for the past 20 years as he stands. “I’ll be right up, Joker. Normandy crew,” he adds, opening his omni-tool to address his ship, “Prepare for FTL travel in five. I want the shuttle prepped for immediate departure. Doctor Chakwas, I need five shots of blood-alcohol filters. Liara--” he switches off his omni-tool and turns to her, but she’s already placed down her cards, eyes serious as she waits for instruction. “We’ve got a lot of pissed-off asari on that planet. I need you to come with me as a show of good faith. Garrus, you’re my second. Get your gear, get your shot from the doc, and meet me in the hanger.”
“You got it,” Garrus nods, pulling out Liara’s chair so they can move quickly out of the Lounge.
“James,” Shepard continues, “You still got those contacts in STG?”
“Yes sir,” James answers, sudden understanding easing the lines of concern on his face as he stands.
“Good. I want you on the comms with them, updating the status. Salarians are involved here, even if their government denies it, and I’ll need you as a liason they trust if anything goes south.”
“Not a problem,” James agrees, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following Liara and Garrus’s exit, pulling up his omni-tool as he goes.
“Kaidan,” Shepard says, finally, and he hates that his voice is softer somehow, miniscule in their reduced company. “You’re in command while I'm gone. I need you here this time in case they close in on the Normandy.”
“Sir,” Kaidan affirms, Shepard’s orders never in question, hand raised for a salute as Shepard turns to go -- his mind already on the mission, the thousand things he needs to do filing themselves into a neat, manageable order. He’s halfway to the door when Kaidan’s voice stops him.
“Commander! I--” he pauses, looking unsure, expression a bit broken. “Was it… too far?”
Shepard blanks at the crack of certainty in Kaidan’s otherwise resilient demeanor. He considers telling him to focus, that they’ll talk about it later, but Kaidan has come too far for Shepard to allow him back into that mindset of worthlessness outside of a solider’s utility. He steps back, hand reaching out to circle around Kaidan’s wrist; something private, something comfortable.
“No,” he says, and he’s surprised at how easy it comes out, how simple it is to tell him the truth. “We’re okay. But right now, I need you to take care of my ship, Major.”
Kaidan’s eyes flick with a shimmer of gratitude before he’s standing straight again. “Aye aye, Commander,” he answers smoothly, perpetually ready to be the XO Shepard’s always needed, the friend he’s always wanted-- and the something more he never thought to ask for.
///
The battle isn’t long, but it’s frantic and wild, and Shepard already knows there won’t be enough thermal pads in the world to stop his muscles from screaming at him tomorrow. Blood Pack troops are numerous, but they’re reckless and easily replaceable, leaving their tactical disadvantages prime targets for Shepard’s crew.
It’s going well... until it’s not.
Their battlefield is a decrepit pile of rubble on one of Tuchanka’s moons, with just enough atmosphere to keep them breathing air that’s only slightly worse than a smoker’s lungs. A few scattered weeds are trying their damnedest to reclaim their rights to the sun, poking out through the cracks in what was once the intricately decorated walkway of a religious building, and Shepard’s only slightly sorry when he has to trample them to shift his cover. They’ve made their way back to the extraction shuttle, but one last ambush, courtesy of the remaining Blood Pack involved in the tip of this weapon smuggling ring, has them fighting for their opportunity to board and get the hell off this goddamn moon.
“Commander, they’ve taken out the shuttle’s shield generator,” Cortez’s voice cracks along the line, revealing the destination of the bullet that had missed Shepard’s head and whizzed by him, eliciting a shower of sparks he had all but ignored in favor of swapping heat sinks. “They haven’t figured it out yet, but a few more of those stray shots could really start doing some damage now.”
“These idiots can only cause accidental damage,” Wrex growls in the comms, the blast of his shotgun subdued by the sound balancing in their earpieces. “They can’t hit a damn thing they’re aiming at. You hear me, you dumbasses?! My grandmother’s a better shot than you, and she lost an arm!”
Shepard chances a look out of cover, double-checking his surroundings before chucking a grenade to ricochet off of the nearest panel and into a hovel where at least two vorcha are squabbling over ammo. He braces himself against the blast that shakes the ground beneath him, cement and rebar raining down against his cover and tinging uselessly against his armor, before taking two popshots at the vorcha on the railing above them.
“I count three in the courtyard, two above, two by the door,” he relays, voice sharp in their situational adrenaline.
“Six in the courtyard,” corrects Kaidan’s voice, and Shepard can hear his Harrier’s distinct, hard-hitting rounds in the distance to his right. That rifle is nearly half the size of the Major himself, but he handles the weight beautifully. “I’ve got eyes on three more right now, two o’clock, behind the rubble of that Krogan statue. They’re messing with something.”
“Okay, we need to hurry and take them out. Wrex, you’re closest to the far three, so knock their heads together, and I’ll take out the ones up top. Kaidan, draw fire from the courtyard team to give Wrex cover; you’re the furthest target from the shuttle. The two by the door will come running to support. Barrier good?”
“I’m good, Commander,” Kaidan replies, studious and focused, Shepard’s perpetual calm in a firefight.
“You still talking, Princess?!” Wrex yells, "I’m halfway there already!”
Shepard and Kaidan take their cues and do their jobs. The vorcha up top aren’t too much of a problem, not when incendiary rounds start to sizzle through the air around them and launch them into a careless panic. It only takes moments before they react aggressively, shamelessly allowing Shepard to weaponize their species proclivity for confrontation. It only takes two well-timed shots as they pop out of cover to furiously litter the ground in bullets, and Shepard watches them fall to the floor, screaming as they burn, if only to be certain they wouldn’t be getting back up.
It’s only half a minute later when Wrex’s furious cry can be heard over the comm.
“Shepard! The bastards shot their buddy in the leg and left him here as bait for me. Took off back to the courtyard towards the rest of ‘em. They’re out of my range!”
“Copy,” Shepard says, chancing another look out of cover to verify, and sees two vorcha scrambling like hell to get behind the block of concrete serving as their last line of defense. One of them is struggling, carrying something far too heavy for standard vorcha armament, and fear bolts through Shepard’s gut.
“COBRA!” he yells into the comms, “Kaidan, alternate fire--!”
“No time, Commander!” Kaidan yells back, and Shepard knows it, sees the vorcha hefting the missile launcher up against the concrete, aiming it towards the shuttle--
He watches from a distance as Kaidan steps out of cover, a piercing blue figure in an otherwise gray and brown landscape. His biotics are on full display, amplifying and radiating power, and with terrifying ease, he lifts all seven vorcha from the ground to hover them several meters above their abandoned Cobra. He holds them there, and Shepard gets a distant glimpse of Kaidan’s notorious I’m done with this shit expression as he slowly, slowly, curls his raised hands into fists.
The vorcha scream as they’re reaved; some unholy sound that Shepard knows can’t come close to expressing the agony of having your nerves fried and severed across the expanse of your body. They shriek in tandem torment, their cries of pain echoing throughout the courtyard until Kaidan decides they’re weak enough to not survive his next attack.
He throws his arms out, a ripple of blue force that moves like a shockwave through their battlefield, and the vorcha are sent flying like ragdolls. Nothing but useless lumps of bone and bleeding flesh. A few crash into the already crumbling concrete walls, a sickening splatter to accompany the finalizing thump of their bodies against the ground, and a few are flown past the courtyard walls, landing too far into the horizon to see the resulting carnage of Kaidan’s work.
“Clear, ” Kaidan breathes into the comm, his words labored and heavy in his exhaustion. Shepard watches from afar as Kaidan’s arms fall gently to his sides and he looks up towards the heavens as if to catch his breath.
“Holy shit, Alenko,” Wrex cackles in laughter. “You damn near hit me with one of ‘em! That was some of the most badass shit I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been around a damn sight longer than you.”
“Shuttle is primed to fly, but I’m advising against leaving until we fix this shield generator,” Cortez cuts in, sounding tired, but pacified that his shuttle wasn’t about to be blown over the landing pad. “Wrex, the panel is dented in and I can’t get in there. Can I get you to maybe, I dunno, hit it with a big ass rock or something until it pops open?”
“On my way,” Wrex chuckles. “I’m almost proud, Cortez. Sounds like my kind of tactic. Sure I’m not rubbing off on you?”
“We’ll do a final sweep in the meantime,” Shepard comments, unable to take his eyes off Kaidan, the image of him lifting seven vorcha in the air like it was a normal biotic standard forever burned into his memory. He can still feel the shock wave against his skin, fading, and he wants nothing but to chase the source. “Make sure they’re all taken care of.”
Wrex snorts. “If Alenko here didn’t kill them all, he sure as hell scared the rest of them off.”
Shepard ignores Wrex’s comment as best he can and picks his way across the rubble, dead set on getting to the Major, who stands alone against the backdrop of a culture lost to carnage. By the time he’s made his way to the small clearing, his heartbeat could be felt trying to slam its way out of his throat, and Kaidan’s already smiling that pure, innocent smile at him as he takes off his helmet.
“Well done, Commander,” he says lightly, cheeks flushed in exertion and hair mussed up from sweating inside his helmet.
Shepard presses his fingers to his comm, mutters, “Going radio silent, back in five,” before flicking the switch off. Kaidan frowns at him but follows orders when Shepard motions for him to do the same.
“What’s wrong?” Kaidan asks, and the moment he turns his comm off, Shepard is on him.
He wraps a hand around the back of Kaidan’s neck and pulls him in, not giving a damn about whether Kaidan will reject the kiss, yet not knowing what else to do with the beautiful, awe-inspiring human in front of him, waiting for Shepard’s advisement like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Kaidan stiffens immediately, but Shepard stands his ground, pulls him closer until their armor presses uncomfortably against them, and it’s three seconds of Shepard’s mouth against his until Kaidan melts into the contact.
He tastes like post-battle. Like sweat-soaked skin and salt, like the smell of still burning heat sinks. Like the stripping of armor after a mission gone well. He tastes like everything Shepard has come to associate with Kaidan’s presence in his life, and he’s delirious from both dehydration and the sound that he’s able to punch out of Kaidan’s throat when he slides his tongue across his lips.
But it doesn’t last long, and Kaidan isn’t easily pushed around when he wants a word in. Shepard finds himself shoved back against the wall, Kaidan’s hand against his chest pressing hard, a blue-tinted fire in his eyes that hasn’t completely snuffed out the lingering biotic display of prowess.
“What the hell was that?” Kaidan asks, mouth forming an angry curve as he takes in Shepard’s state, trying to deduce whatever Shepard had tried to say with actions and not words. His biotics flare, his body still coiled tightly around the instinct that keeps him alive, the one that hasn’t yet relayed to him that he’s out of danger. At the feeling of Kaidan sweeping across him, that same power he had just seen, only devoid of violence, reaching through his armor and weaving his way across Shepard’s skin, beneath it, deeper than anything should be allowed to go, Shepard can’t help the choked off sound that makes its way out of his throat.
Kaidan’s eyes burn in heated curiosity, and Shepard wants to burn within them. He’s man enough to admit it. Kaidan moves closer, his gloved hand grabbing Shepard’s jaw; not enough to be painful, but enough to focus Shepard’s attention, keep his gaze exactly where he wants it. There’s a flicker of understanding at the tells Shepard knows he’s broadcasting just as easily as saying it aloud.
“You son of a bitch,” Kaidan says, annoyance giving way to amusement, some otherworldly, knowing smile growing on his features. “It’s not the biotics that get you off at all, is it? It’s the power.”
To punctuate his point, he lets another controlled wave wash over Shepard, dragging it out to be slow and calculated, too much like the Major to mistake its ownership. Shepard shivers, the chill of the potential comedown after a firefight mixing beautifully with the danger of knowing Kaidan is the only thing keeping those biotics from shredding him down to a molecular level. The freedom from control is intoxicating.
“It’s you,” Shepard manages, shameless, because it’s Kaidan, and there isn’t a damn thing either of them can be humiliated about, not anymore. Not after all the years of living and breathing together, seeing the worst of one another, watching themselves break and shatter and rebuild. It’s Kaidan, who’s always been nothing if not honest, and Shepard is determined to give him that same courtesy. “It’s -- fuck. You. Your power. The control.”
Kaidan chuckles, that deep sound that Shepard doesn’t think he realizes is an aphrodisiac to anyone within range. “Well, I’m flattered, Shepard. And a bit relieved if I’m honest. You kind of made me feel like I’d catch you looking at Liara the same way you look at me.”
And it’s so Kaidan to stare down the elephant in the room, to already know, regardless of the societal decency of letting someone’s fascination go unnoticed until they figured it out themselves, that the honest candor doesn’t surprise either of them.
“Not a chance,” Shepard mutters, skin tingling, waiting for the moment Kaidan will allow him to touch again, primed for it like he’d spent his years in preparing for nothing else.
“That’s good,” Kaidan responds, eyes roving Shepard’s face, planning. His voice is nothing but auditory stimulus that’s going to fuck Shepard up for the next three days, at the very least. “‘Cause I’m not great with competition, Shepard, and I’m not big on sharing. Especially not where this particular interest of yours is concerned.”
Shepard should know it’s coming, because Kaidan can be a real shit when he wants to be, but the air is still punched from his lungs in surprise as the fingers of Kaidan’s free hand twitch and curl, and Shepard feels his own arms begin to move.
“Kaidan--” he starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with that particular train of thought, because his mind is completely wrapped around feeling his hands being forcibly moved past his hips, his shoulders curving back, relaxing until his wrists are pinned together behind himself with nothing but Kaidan’s force of will.
Kaidan is watching him closely, ready to judge his reaction; forever ready to take the leap of faith where Shepard is concerned. Blue tints the hazel of his eyes, just enough to remind Shepard of his control, and if Shepard was hard before, it’s now bordering on painful.
“Fuck--” he breathes out, and it’s the only clarification that Kaidan needs before he captures his Commander’s mouth once more, purposely leaving Shepard’s hands pinned behind his back. The kiss is dirtier than he’d give Kaidan credit for, courtesy of the firefight still pumping in their veins, and he opens his mouth willingly when Kaidan demands it. He’s already against the wall, but Kaidan presses in further, determined to stake a claim, and runs his hands indulgently up Shepard’s sides, finding the creases in armor to press the pads of his fingers as close to skin as he can get; heated points of contact that leave Shepard aching for everything he’s not getting, cursing the layers between them, cursing every goddamn thing that’s preventing Kaidan from doing whatever it is he wants to do.
“Major? Is the Commander with you?”
Cortez's voice cuts through their moment, and instantly, Kaidan pulls back. Shepard’s arms are released, the bright scent of eezo the only thing reminiscent of Kaidan’s biotics as he completely snuffs them out. Shepard looks at him, a quick glance to dismiss any worries of regret on Kaidan’s part, but his XO is calm and collected, switching his comm back on.
“We’re here, Steve, sorry. Thought we saw movement in the center quadrant, wanted to get the jump on it. Shuttle good to go?”
Shepard knows when he’s being given a moment to breathe. He could kiss Kaidan for it if he didn’t think it would exacerbate the problem. Their separation wasn’t born of unease, of a miscalculated step in the wrong direction, but a resounding sense of time and place. There is a time for Shepard’s vulnerability, and it’s not on the field, and not in front of his team. Kaidan picks up his helmet and rifle with the same grace he hands back Shepard his control, bumping his shoulder against Shepard’s arm carefully to get his Commander’s focus back on track.
“We’re good over here,” Cortez answers, “The rock thing actually worked--”
“--Course it did. Always does.”
“--So just waiting on you two. Need backup?”
Shepard shakes himself out of the submission he had been all too ready to collapse against and switches his comm back on just as Kaidan had done.
“No, we’re good here. False alarm. On our way back now.”
“Wrex, I found a Wraith on one of these guys,” Kaidan adds from several feet away, kicking a dead krogan’s arm off of a bloodied shotgun. “You want it?”
“Nah,” Wrex answers. “Secured a whole crate of them back down in that warehouse. Let the clean-up crew have it.”
“You sure?” Kaidan asks again, crouching down to get a closer look at the shotgun. “This one’s been modded. Hi-cal barrel and something’s been done to the capacitor. It’s got kill count markings on it too.”
A pause.
“On second thought, yeah, bring it over. I’ll check it out on the ride back.”
“You got it. And see if there’s any more of those protein bars in the kit, I’m starving,” Kaidan answers, hefting the weighty shotgun up off the ground with one hand and slinging it across his shoulder to counter the weight of his rifle. He turns to Shepard, eyebrow raised, looking like a goddamn vision. “Coming, Commander?”
Shepard nods, throat dry, heart pounding in his chest from the fluctuating chaos of the past three hours, and the last ten minutes. “Lead the way, Major.”
///
Kaidan comes to see him the next evening. He knows it’s Kaidan, because the Major is the only person on the Normandy that bothers physically knocking on Shepard’s cabin door when a quick message asking permission would have sufficed.
“Hey,” Kaidan says easily, stepping past Shepard once the door was opened. He sets down a covered plate of food from the kitchen on Shepard’s table, taking careful consideration to avoid the mess of datapads and weapon parts. “You didn’t come down for dinner, figured I’d bring it to you.”
“I already turned down that offer from Liara and Steve,” Shepard muses, allowing the door to shut and lock behind them. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
“Is that a joke? All I get are memos anymore. I shouldn’t have gone the officer route,” Kaidan sighs. “Too much paperwork.”
Shepard hums in amusement, pulling two beers from his private stash and handing one to Kaidan. “They do know you can’t read, right? Never saw the point in sending a marine anything involving words; if you can’t fight it or fuck it, you guys generally don’t see the appeal.”
Kaidan snorts, accepting the beer and lashing with grace. “There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” he reasons, twisting off the top of his bottle and taking a deep drink before continuing. “So, I brought news alongside that questionable chicken marsala.”
He pauses, licking at his lip before biting the corner of it, his eyes going distant, if only for a moment. He sighs and throws himself down on Shepard’s sofa. “They have drone coverage on that moon apparently, the one over Tuchanka. There’s a video of me, where I took out those vorcha, making its rounds on the extranet. I’ve been told I’m, uh, trending. ”
Shepard follows his lead and sits, concern momentarily overwhelming his curiosity at whatever this thing was that he and Kaidan have been building. “Have there been legal ramifications? Anyone calling for your head?”
“No, no,” Kaidan waves him off. “The Spectre status works most of that stuff out, and it’s not like the vorcha are winning any popularity contests. But, um,” he pauses again, running his fingers through the condensation on the bottle, voice turning vulnerable. “Two of my students have requested transfers out of my class. Some enlisted want out of my command too, as well as the only Lieutenant that isn’t a pain in my ass.”
Anger flares bright in Shepard’s gut, and his words come out harder than he means them to. “For what, doing your job?”
Kaidan shakes his head, bitterly amused. “No, the way I did my job was the issue, I gather. But, if it’s any consolation, I’m told a few people have requested lat-moves to take their places. So... there’s that. And a number of L3's and even some of the oldest L4's are taking shit positions in the schoolhouse, just to be eligible for instruction.”
Shepard’s hand loosens on his beer slightly, the need to defend Kaidan’s actions slowly smoothing out into a manageable reaction. “Good. Seems like at least some of them know talent when they see it. The ones that leave aren’t worth your time, Kaidan,” he reminds him, none too gently.
Kaidan huffs a laugh, turning towards Shepard, eyes perfectly calm despite the absolute hell of a day he must have had. “This is hard for me, you know. Being exposed like this, letting people dissect me. There’s a lot of stuff floating around about me right now, being an L2 and a Spectre. There’s talk about whether I should be allowed to instruct students still. Even Jack called me up, asking if I was trying to knock her off her throne.” He smiles, and it’s such a rare, unguarded thing that Shepard can feel his heart kick against his chest. “It’s easier to deal with here though, with you. I don’t feel like you guys are waiting for me to crack.”
“You won’t crack,” Shepard reassures quietly, taking another pull of his beer. “You’re too damn composed for that. Besides, if you can survive this ship, this crew, and this mission without losing your mind, a room full of eager, doe-eyed biotics should seem like a vacation.”
Kaidan laughs lightly, moving to sit back against the couch, head titled back to watch the green and white nebula in the distance twinkle down at them. He savors his next drink, the small bit of peace they can only barely commit to, before turning curious eyes onto Shepard.
“So, you wanna tell me why you’ve been hiding in your cabin since midday?”
“Honestly?” Shepard answers, stretching out his leg and wincing. “I’m sore. I forgot to apply the thermal packs when we got in yesterday, and it’s too late to mitigate the damage now. We’ve got another six hours before we dock, so I’m trying to avoid letting anyone see limping before that.”
It’s a joke, but Kaidan’s face smiles in a different kind of amusement. “Better idea,” he offers. “I’ll stay up here for an hour or so, and then you can let them draw their own conclusions as to why you’re limping.”
Shepard chokes on his drink, and Kaidan laughs delightedly, thumping him hard on the back and earning a wince from Shepard, courtesy of his screaming shoulders.
“Why do you never pull shit like this with the rest of the crew?” Shepard chokes out, once he finds his lungs again. “Why is always me that gets your one-liners?”
“Oh, everyone else gets them too,” Kaidan pacifies, smiling warmly, moving away to let Shepard breathe. “You’re just the only one that’s always surprised. Besides, it’s a better excuse than ‘I forgot to stretch.’”
Before Shepard can figure out how to respond to that, or to Kaidan’s earlier comment, he’s saved the trouble of answering. Kaidan looks back up at the nebula above them and sighs, swishing the dregs of his beer lightly in the bottle.
“You know what the best part of this whole vorcha thing is?” he asks, and Shepard stays silent, waiting. Watching the reflection of a thousand stars flicker across Kaidan’s face. “Anderson contacted my Colonel and asked that he deny the transfer requests. Every single one. He called them all up personally, told them they should be grateful to have such an ‘outstanding marine’ to look up to, and he hopes that one day they might live up to be half the man that I am.”
Shepard listens to him talk, and wonders why he doesn’t do it more often. It’s the easiest sound in the world to get lost in, and he finds himself hoping that Kaidan plans to stay, combing his head for excuses to convince him to if he tries to leave. Listening to him praise himself, even though the mouth of another, is a delight Shepard doesn’t get very often, and he savors the words for as long as Kaidan lets him.
“Anderson doesn’t say those things lightly,” Shepard finally comments. “He meant it.”
“I know,” Kaidan says. “I just… wanted you to know that I hear it. You know?”
Shepard nods, understanding an apology when he hears it, and they stay there for too long, soaking in one another’s presence. A simple moment to exist outside of the tragedy around them, outside of the duty they’ve sworn to lay down their lives for. Even as Shepard’s muscles protest and ache, he finds himself more relaxed with Kaidan than he’d felt on his own in a long time. Any time he spends with his own company usually stifles him with his failures, his fears, and the insurmountable tasks placed before him. Time with Kaidan makes him feel human again, reminds him to actually live .
“Alright, get on the bed. Take your shirt off.”
Kaidan stands, motioning for Shepard to do the same, and Shepard can all but stare at him, caught completely off guard by the sudden change in demeanor.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Kaidan repeats, smirking lightly at the look on Shepard’s face. “I’m going to undo the torment you put your broken, old man body through.”
Shepard stands, but there’s hesitation, and he doesn’t move to disrobe. “It’s too late for thermals, Kaidan. Unless you’ve got some kind of magic medicine you haven’t been sharing with the team?”
Kaidan gives him a deeply unimpressed look before raising his hand, letting the blue glow of biotics twine between his fingers as an answer.
“Whoa,” Shepard states dumbly. “Are you serious? I didn’t know that was something biotics could help with.”
Kaidan shrugs, moving towards the bed to adjust Shepard’s pillows. “It’s a new field of study for humans. A few asari hospitals offer it as part of a recovery option, physical therapy and all that. Human biotics… well, most can’t seem to fine-tune their powers enough to reach the muscle, but not blow past it.”
Shepard shifts uncomfortably. “And by ‘blow past it,’ you mean…”
Kaidan smirks, gesturing in an offhand manner like it shouldn’t matter. “Don’t worry, they’re still using training dummies. No one got hurt.”
“That’s very comforting,” Shepard responds, dripping sarcasm, but finds himself taking off his shirt anyway, simply because Kaidan asked. Kaidan asks for very little, and after all these years, Shepard finds his requests the easiest to honor.
Kaidan guides him to the bed, hands on his shoulders to direct him face down. “Don’t worry,” he says softly, and for once, the tease is gone from his voice, nothing but a steady confidence Shepard wants to see him wear outside of this moment, whenever he can get it. “I do it for myself all the time,” he adds, and with that final bid for Shepard’s trust, Shepard lays down fully and closes his eyes.
“You won’t be taking pictures and posting them to the extranet, right?” he mumbles, trying to relax his tension-addled body as Kaidan moves on top of him, straddling the back of Shepard’s thighs.
“Give me some credit, Shepard,” Kaidan admonishes. “I’ll auction them off first. I’m thinking 80-20 split. I might shock you, by the way,” he adds calmly, and Shepard really wishes he wouldn’t let his voice get that quiet, that deep , because he’s already having trouble keeping his head focused. “Can’t really help the static charge that builds up when I’m not out in the field.”
“I know. I remember McCarthy trying to hit on you back on the SR1, and you shocked her so bad her hair was standing up.”
“I still feel bad about that,” Kaidan admits, laughing lightly, making a pleased sound when Shepard doesn’t jump at the static charge of skin on skin. His hands are firm and warm on Shepard’s lower back, moving upwards, feeling for tension.
“I don’t,” Shepard breathes, hardly aware of what he’s admitting to, and it gives Kaidan just a moment of pause, fingers faltering slightly as they work their way up to his shoulders. He doesn’t respond, but his exploration seems to get more sure of itself, feeling across his arms, down the length of his sides, thumbs against the cords of his neck.
“Alright,” he says finally. “Most of it is in your shoulders and lower back. This… works better if I don’t touch you. Keeps me from misjudging what’s me and what’s you.”
He pauses as if Shepard might have an issue with it, but Shepard only nods, Kaidan’s touch having adequately relaxed him enough that he’s beginning to drift away from the cruelties of the week.
“It’s…” Kaidan starts, then stops, shifting slightly on Shepard’s thighs. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I kind of threw it on you, but, it’s not a normal practice. Chakwas would freak if she found out. Do you… are you sure you trust me?”
Shepard smiles because he loves this man, he knows that with more certainty than most things, and trusting him was about the easiest decision he’s never had to make. “You ask that a lot.”
“It’s a lot to believe.”
“No it’s not,” Shepard answers softly. “Not between you and me.”
Kaidan is silent, and Shepard knows he’s rocked him, so he gently taps the sheets that are warming beneath his hand. “C’mon, Kaidan. I’m still sore. Work your fancy space magic.”
Finally, Kaidan snorts in amusement, and Shepard can feel the air shift around him as biotics are brought into play. There’s a quiet sound that accompanies it, as though the dimension they’re in is staging issue with Kaidan’s control, but it doesn’t put Shepard on edge the way it would on a mission, or even on the Citadel, which isn’t as safe as they pretend it is. It’s simply Kaidan, taking the things Shepard thinks he knows and reteaching them through an entirely new filter.
When the biotics reach his skin they bring warmth with them, a built-up energy that changes and adjusts based on Kaidan’s precise instructions. They press deeper than human hands could hope to reach, spreading their heat across the expanse of his lower back, and the novelty of it allows a strangled noise to escape his lips.
Perhaps he mistakes the sound for worry, but Kaidan doesn’t adjust his course. Instead, he says firmly, “I’ve got you.” His voice is full of reassurance, and Shepard believes it as easily as he always has.
The press against his body continues, feeling less like the sometimes uncomfortable digging of fingers and more like a heated blanket, a wave of relief that massages the worst of his overworked muscles. Kaidan keeps his biotics deep enough to avoid the most sensitive of his nerves, leaving only the very bizarre -- yet entirely welcome -- feeling of having his muscles cathartically stretched without his input.
“How is this done?” he asks lowly, not wanting to startle Kaidan, realizing belatedly that he should have asked him how much mental strain this was going to cost.
But Kaidan only laughs lightly. “Not sure you want to know. It involves a lot of dark energy manipulation, and minuscule mass effect fields in the areas between your muscles.”
“You’re right,” Shepard says, after careful consideration. “I really didn’t want to -- oh.” He tenses as Kaidan hits a spot near his spine -- one that’s always caused him trouble, always hurts after a mission, no matter how he tries to avoid it.
“Relax,” Kaidan admonishes, and the heat amplifies there for a few minutes, Shepard’s muscle contracting in pain before slowly easing at the caress, pacified by the attention.
“You’re in the wrong field of work, Major,” Shepard sighs, turning his head to the other side as Kaidan works up his shoulders.
It goes on, the low sounds of Kaidan’s biotics accompanying what’s quickly becoming the best massage of Shepard’s life. The stiffness in his shoulders is worked out with meticulous intent, and Shepard loses all concept of time as Kaidan works.
At some point, the biotics fade, and Shepard is left slightly colder, his skin tingling all over from the gentle assault of Kaidan’s energy.
“Alright,” Kaidan mumbles, and his hands go to rest at the small of Shepard’s back as if to check his own handiwork. “Now let’s work out that limp. Pants off.”
Shepard snorts. “Kaidan, if you think I’m going to be able to move for the next two hours, I gotta tell you--”
“That’s fine,” Kaidan interrupts. “Just stay there.”
And then, to Shepard’s shock, Kaidan’s hand moves around his hip, pushing between his pants and the bedsheets to reach the front of his jeans. Shepard startles, because he had been kidding, he had no problems getting up, but Kaidan still has his free hand pressed against his lower back, and he knows when he’s being told to stay down.
He bites his lip to avoid another embarrassing noise when Kaidan’s fingers undo the buttons on his jeans. His weight is fully supported by the bed beneath him, and there’s no avoiding the press of Kaidan’s hand against his dick as he expertly loosens Shepard’s pants with extremely talented fingers.
“Don’t tense,” Kaidan scolds lowly, moving away just enough to tug gently on Shepard’s pocket, pulling the denim away and off of his hips. “I just got you relaxed.”
Distantly, Shepard is aware of what’s happening. The silk in Kaidan’s voice belies his position, and Shepard has known him long enough to pick up on when Kaidan wants control of a situation. He’s no longer asking permission as much as he is reminding Shepard to be good, to finally submit to something rather than forcing his control over it. They’ll need to talk about it at some point, of course they will, but right now Kaidan’s hands are on him, sliding his pants down past his thighs, knees, ankles, and off, and Shepard refuses to trade that for the clarification neither of them need.
“Your thighs will be easier,” Kaidan comments, resuming his position just above Shepard’s knees. “A lot of muscle, bigger target.”
Kaidan is undoubtedly running hot, and without the buffer of denim, Shepard can feel the warmth radiating off of him as he burns through calories to maintain his precision control. He’s a beacon of heat and comfort above him, and Shepard relaxes whatever muscles have tensed up during their exchange.
The thighs may be easier for Kaidan, who works through the thick muscle with more confidence, but it quickly becomes agony for Shepard. His legs are sore to the point of wincing pain, but even once that fades after several focused minutes on Kaidan’s part, a new sort of torture takes its place.
Kaidan’s biotics are treading far too close to sensitive areas. His back -- that’s used to contact. People touching him gently to steer him aside for a quiet word, a thump from a teammate for a job well done; even friends have helped him work out his muscles before, massages that finish up the job painkillers can’t fix. But Kaidan is trailing up the insides of his legs, the edges curling his hips, questing forward, and Shepard can’t forget how he tasted on that moon, how these same biotics forcibly held Shepard back as Kaidan made his undisputable claim.
And as if he could sense Shepard’s wavering thoughts, Kaidan’s biotics take a turn, pulling away from the muscles and back up towards his skin, where Shepard’s nerve endings blaze to life like they’d been waiting for Kaidan to remember them. Shepard shivers violently at the change, his body reacting to the current that stimulates all the dormant parts of him.
Kaidan breathes out gently behind him, like the sight does something to him. He moves up further on Shepard’s body, straddling the backs of his thighs again, and distracts Shepard from the movement by sending another steady pulse of energy up and down the length of his body.
It’s a dangerous combination. Kaidan’s heat above him and Shepard’s vulnerable position below him is kickstarting his body into the belief that this situation is no longer innocent. And Kaidan’s biotics are cruel, teasing Shepard with their exploratory touch as they test which spots make him shiver, and which make him clench his fists into the sheets below him and shut his eyes.
But Kaidan doesn’t tease him for long, and Shepard gets no warning before the biotic field curls up between his legs and presses gently against his hardening cock. He hisses and sighs, relieved for the friction, half-convinced he’s dreaming, because after months of wondering what the Major’s body would feel like against his, there’s no way it’s this easy.
Kaidan gives him only a moment to adjust before he’s pressing him again, running that heated trail of energy and manipulation across the front of Shepard’s briefs, stroking him through the fabric with the kind of control and direction a biotic could only pray to one day obtain. Shepard gets a flashback of Kaidan, of all the times he’s let loose on the battlefield and utterly decimated an entire squadron of enemies with a simple twist of his arm, and has to choke back a groan knowing that same power is being used to expertly get him hard and aching.
When Kaidan gives him another full body wave, lighting up his nerves like every zone had been fine-tuned for the treatment, Shepard can’t help grinding down against the bed. The simple movement is all it takes for Kaidan to lose his composure, and he breathes out a soft curse as his hands finally come into play, unashamedly grabbing Shepard’s ass as Shepard grinds gently against the biotics.
“Kaidan--” Shepard breathes, no other words filtering through his brain except the name of the man above him. The air around him is nothing but the steady suspension of Kaidan’s biotics, manipulating the energy to send shivers down his spine, mimic a hand curling around his balls, stroking down his neck.
“You like me like this,” Kaidan murmurs, somewhere between an accusation and an awe-inspiring, stunning realization. The sound of his voice, an already deep pitch thick with arousal, earns an appreciative twitch from Shepard’s dick. “You’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”
To illustrate his point, he runs his thumb across the fabric between Shepard’s cheeks, just barely grazing his hole, and the sheer boldness of it has Shepard bucking back into his hand. He keeps his eyes shut, the side of his face pressed against his sheets, because he’s half certain the sight of Kaidan above him will do him in.
“Tell me what it is,” Kaidan demands, squeezing the curves of Shepard’s ass. “You said, but -- Is it the biotics? Is it the control?”
The biotics hit harder as he asks, snaking their way down Shepard’s back, causing him to arch slightly off of the mattress. Shepard gasps, familiar with Kaidan expressing his normally shackled freedoms in the privacy of Shepard’s crew, but never like this. Never with his biotics teasing the nerve endings across his skin while his hands drift towards places Shepard hasn’t been touched in years.
“It’s you,” Shepard grinds out. “The control, Kaidan, it’s--” he groans, biting his lip as he struggles to find adequate friction against the mattress beneath him. “--It’s the biotics, it’s your marksmanship, it’s, fuck -- it’s the way you stand there like you don’t know you’re the deadliest son of a bitch in the room.”
In response, Kaidan’s biotics waver, pulling away from Shepard’s body. Shepard gasps at the loss of contact, his skin still tingling in the phantom remains of their energy, and looks back.
Instantly, he wishes he hadn’t, because Kaidan is staring down at him like he owns the very ground Shepard walks on, and plans to worship it. His eyes are still swimming in that beautiful, dangerous blue, and it too closely mirrors the look of him out in the field, when he’s free to be himself. When he’s free to let loose.
“Turn over.”
Shepard does, grateful at being less exposed, even if it means having to look Kaidan in the eyes as the Major removes his shirt and undoes his own pants.
“I didn’t know,” Kaidan starts, sliding off of Shepard to remove his pants. “--the extent. If it was just the biotics, because people have a thing for that, you know. If you just wanted a kink satisfied. But then you--” he cuts himself off again, sliding back on top of Shepard like he was worried his Commander would leave. “--the way you look at me sometimes, I thought maybe--”
“It’s you,” Shepard interrupts him, finally touching back by running his hands down Kaidan’s arms, fingers tracing scars, old and new. “Can’t be anyone but you, Kaidan.”
“I don’t want it to be anyone but me,” Kaidan answers softly, and it’s too innocent for someone whose voice threatens to make Shepard come undone. It’s too pure for someone who grinds his hips down against Shepard’s, making them both gasp at the pressure they share between them.
Kaidan goes for the kiss first, and Shepard meets him gratefully, letting the long-absent feeling of another body against his own ease out the remaining tension. It’s soft, gentle and deep, and so perfectly mirrors Kaidan’s direction as he parts Shepard’s lips -- if only just to hear the surprised gasp Shepard makes when Kaidan gets a hand on the dick that’s straining against his briefs. He grins against Shepard’s mouth as Shepard curses.
“How long has it been?”
“Since what,” Shepard asks, feigning annoyance, but chasing Kaidan’s mouth when he tries to pull away. He presses his hands against Kaidan’s back, keeping him close, keeping their bodies connected wherever possible. “Since I got laid? Since I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you look, all the damn time?”
“Oh, well, I’d hate to be a distraction, Commander,” Kaidan smirks, teasing Shepard with that voice of his, putting stray thoughts in his head of all the noises he could get Kaidan to make, until there was very little room for cognizant thought.
“Yeah, you’ve been a real saint concerning that,” Shepard says, turning Kaidan’s head to the side so he can kiss his neck, working his way across the collarbone. His hand tangles gently in Kaidan’s hair, cautious of his implant, his fingers catching the tiny rogue sparks that they create. “You’ve been a show off, Kaidan,” he corrects lightly, and whether it’s from the blatant call-out or a sensitive spot Shepard’s found at the corner of his mouth, Kaidan whines.
“You can’t react that way and--” Kaidan breaks off with a gasp as Shepard strokes him through his briefs. “--expect me to not want to see it again. In the shuttle bay, knowing you were hard for me, I--”
Shepard squeezes gently, and Kaidan groans again before burying his face into Shepard’s neck.
“Okay,” Kaidan whispers, as if trying to convince himself to focus as he rocks against Shepard’s hand. “Okay, let’s--”
He moves off of Shepard, undressing completely, and Shepard follows eagerly. They’re both pushed too far to the edge, teases of what might be that have been lingering for weeks, always pushed aside for a debriefing, a dossier, a few hours of decent sleep. They scramble out of their briefs and Kaidan is back on him, pressing down to rock against Shepard once more.
“Shit,” Shepard curses, holding Kaidan’s shoulders for leverage, turning his face to coax the Major into another kiss.
They spend a few half-crazed minutes feeling each other out, learning the shape of their bodies in an entirely new arena. Kaidan isn’t quiet, doesn’t even pretend he wants to be, and Shepard wastes too much time drawing out every touch just to watch the look on Kaidan’s face as he gasps and chokes around soft expletives.
Shepard is so hard it aches, and he’s torn between relief and disappointment when Kaidan pulls away, reaching over the side of the bed to fish around for his pants.
“I’ve got…” he mumbles, struggling, and Shepard uses his distraction to run a hand down Kaidan’s bicep and across his chest, lingering on a nipple long enough to pull at it gently. Kaidan hisses, his thighs closing tight around Shepard’s, and not for the first time that day does Shepard have to bite his lip and convince himself he’s not dreaming.
“Here,” Kaidan says finally, producing a single use, slightly crumpled packet of lube from his pocket.
“You carry those around with you?” Shepard asks, amused, and Kaidan shoots him a look of deep annoyance.
“That’s what they’re for,” he chides, ripping open the top of it. “Besides,” he adds, voice going slightly vulnerable. “I was kind of hoping for things to go this way, and I… well, we won’t need much anyway.”
“What…” Shepard starts, momentarily distracted as Kaidan drips lube into his hand and slowly begins jerking Shepard off, coating him thoroughly. Shepard tries to clear his head and pull his eyes away from the sight before he’s coming all over Kaidan’s fingers. “What does that mean?”
As an answer, Kaidan reaches out for Shepard’s hand and guides him down, past Kaidan’s own cock and behind his balls. Shepard lets himself be pulled, and nearly chokes on a groan when his fingers find Kaidan already wet and stretched. He breaches one finger, gently, just to watch Kaidan’s eyes flutter closed and feel his hand falter on Shepard’s cock.
“You mean to tell me that you prepped yourself in your quarters, went and got me dinner, sat on my couch and made small talk, all while planning on-- Christ, Kaidan,” he stops, because Kaidan is moving down on his finger, biting his bottom lip, and Shepard can’t take his eyes off of him.
“Kaidan--” he breathes. “Kaidan, baby, this has to happen sooner rather than later, or it’s not happening at all. Save the show for next time.”
Kaidan doesn’t even bat an eye at next time, but Shepard figures Kaidan has always had a better grasp on where they stand than Shepard does. Especially if the bastard came into his cabin with the intention of getting fucked while Shepard was still scrambling about signals and what the hell his next step should be.
He gives Shepard one long, deep kiss as he positions himself, and Shepard reaches out to stroke Kaidan’s cock to help take some of the initial pain away. But the lower Kaidan sinks onto his cock, the less control Shepard has over his body, because nothing could have prepared him for how tight Kaidan is, even with the lube easing the way and eliminating the drag. He reaches out blindly to hold the Major’s hips, one hand sliding up to thumb over Kaidan’s nipple, and the sound Kaidan makes as he bottoms out is so dirty Shepard feels like he should be paying for it.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Kaidan admits breathlessly, leaning down to kiss Shepard again, a touch of affection more than anything.
“I hope you haven’t gotten it out of your system,” Shepard tries to joke, but Kaidan moves just slightly as he sits back, and Shepard’s vision goes wobbly. “Kaidan, fuck-- I’m not going to last.”
“Me neither,” he admits, hand curled around the base of his down dick to stave off an orgasm. “God, Shepard--” he gasps, and begins to move.
It’s been awhile since Shepard was inside someone, but he doesn’t remember it feeling this good. Kaidan is hot, hotter than normal on account of the biotics, and Shepard is losing himself in the heat, in the feeling of Kaidan’s body above his, pulling forward and sliding back down slowly. Kaidan's arm ends up near Shepard’s head, trying to find leverage, and Shepard can’t help but to reach out and kiss his wrist, lips against Kaidan’s wild, frantic pulse. His hands find their way to the curves of Kaidan’s ass, and he holds him there, timing his thrusts to carefully meet Kaidan’s controlled rhythm.
It’s messy and hot, a fervor born of their withheld interests, and Shepard finds himself saying things to Kaidan he’s never said in bed before. Telling him he’s beautiful, how tight and perfect he is, how Shepard wants to wreck him after every mission, how good he looks at Shepard’s side, how good they must look together -- and Kaidan thrives on it, moving on Shepard’s dick faster as he adjusts, moans and gasps of appreciation sliding from his lips with such a filthy inflection that Shepard doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hear Kaidan speak again without having flashbacks.
“Shepard,” he says finally, a warning, and Shepard looks up to meet his eyes. They’re drowning in blue, his biotics flaring as he reaches his limits, and Shepard whispers a curse under his breath.
“Do it, Kaidan,” he says, reaching out to stroke Kaidan’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, Kaidan, now," he orders, and shoves up hard into Kaidan’s tight heat.
Kaidan doesn’t scream, but it’s near thing, and Shepard can only hold on as the room is engulfed in a blue shock wave, the current of which sends lightning across his nerves, over the expanse of his skin. Kaidan grinds down into him, trying to get him as deep as possible as he comes over Shepard’s hand, across his chest -- and Shepard follows him over, his fingers gripping bruises into Kaidan’s ass as he fills him, letting the lingering biotics amplify his orgasm until he momentarily blacks out from the intensity of it.
When he opens his eyes again, Kaidan is laying on top of him, his heat slowly melting away into the chill of a comedown. One of his hands circles Shepard’s wrist, unable to let him go, and Shepard breathes him in, a debilitating combination of eezo, cologne, and sweat. Something he’s been intimately familiar with for years now, and something he knows he’s never be able to give up.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice too loud in the sudden quiet of his cabin. He rubs a hand over Kaidan’s back, turning to kiss his temple.
Kaidan mumbles something into Shepard’s neck that sounds vaguely like “Yeah, you?” and Shepard grins against Kaidan’s hair.
“I have literally never been better,” he answers. “Come on, you’ll be freezing soon, get under the covers.”
He pulls out of Kaidan gently, earning an annoyed noise from the Major, and Shepard feels his heart swelling against his ribcage. He slowly rolls Kaidan off of him and onto the pillows, getting out of bed to find the discarded comforter and throw it over the shivering biotic.
“I’ll be fine, Shepard,” Kaidan mumbles, but he hunkers down into it anyway, eyes finally opening to watch Shepard as he pulls on his briefs. “I’ve been dealing with this for thirty years.”
“Uh-huh,” Shepard comments, ignoring Kaidan’s protests. “And now today, I get to do it. Stay in bed. And you’re going to eat this marsala, too. I really don’t want to have to call Chakwas up here and explain exactly how you used enough biotics to render yourself unconscious.”
Kaidan smirks through his exhaustion, motioning Shepard over for a kiss. Shepard goes, happy to oblige, letting his lips linger against Kaidan’s far longer than necessary.
“What’s so funny?” Shepard asks, pushing Kaidan’s hair away from where it’s flopped over on his forehead.
Kaidan relaxes further into the pillow, eyes closing as he allows the touch. “We’re both going to be limping now,” he jokes, laughing tiredly. “Think we’ll have to explain that one?”
Before he can answer, Shepard gets a ping on his private terminal. He grabs his omnitool off of the nightstand and pulls up the notification -- the private group message for the Normandy team.
Tali : Did you guys feel that shockwave? It set off readings in my suit.
Vega : I assumed it came from the engine. I don’t really know how all that shit works. Should we be worried about this?
Liara: The crew’s monitors are reporting that the source of the blast came from Shepard’s cabin. We should probably check on him.
Garrus: Wait, don’t do that yet. Has anyone seen Alenko?
Steve: Yeah, went to take the Commander some dinner about an hour ago.
Tali : Oh.
Vega : OH.
Steve : Yeah, oh.
Liara : I see. Well, it’s lucky the Major has such fine control over his biotics. An orgasm intense enough to trigger a blast like that could almost certainly cause collateral damage.
Nothing follows the last message except a string of vomit emojis from Joker, which was then liked by the entire team.
“No,” Shepard sighs, trying to hide his smile as he puts his omnitool back down and goes to fetch Kaidan some much needed calories. “No, I don’t think we’ll have to explain anything at all.”