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The Pull Over

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It had been too long since Shepard had visited Earth. Too long since she'd been on a planet where she could breathe without a filter between her and the air. And now, with the gentle rolls of grassland stretched before her, she intended to make the most of it. A skycar would have kept her sealed in, but the old-fashioned automobile she'd rented had windows that rolled down and a top that folded back. The wind whipped her hair and the sun was warm on her skin. Shepard grinned and accelerated.

She crested one of the small hills, and caught sight of a house just over the next rise. Her stomach lifted as she started down again, and she gave a whoop of excitement. But before she was halfway down, her exhilaration was brought up short by the lights that appeared behind her.

“Shit.” Shepard debated trying to outrace the cop, but then she caught a glimpse of who was driving the car behind her. A turian. What was one of them doing on the police force on Earth? That was more trouble than she wanted to deal with. Reluctantly, she pulled over a short way away from the house she'd spotted. At least it didn't look like anyone was home to watch the famous Commander Shepard get a speeding ticket.

The turian pulled up a couple of car lengths behind her. She watched him approach in her mirrors. Tall, like all turians, face paint a striking shade of blue, and that swagger turians seemed born with. She turned to face him as he got close, and realized that he was a particularly good-looking example of his kind.

“Ma'am,” he started, and she almost melted. He had a nice voice, too. “Do you know why I stopped you?”

Shepard bit her lip. She knew what she wanted him to have stopped her for. She brushed her hair back from where it had fallen against her neck—his eyes flickered down for a moment before returning to her eyes—and smiled. “No, but I'd love to hear you tell me.”

He didn't smile back. “You were going almost double the speed limit.”

“That sounds bad.”

His mandibles twitched in something that looked like irritation. “Are you licensed to operate this vehicle?”

“You don't need to see my license.”


“If you want to know my name, all you have to do is ask.”

He looked upwards briefly. “Ma'am.”

Not even the hint of a smile. Damn.

“It's Shepard.”

“Ma'am -”


“Shepard.” Oh, she liked the way her name sounded in his voice. “Are you licensed to operate this vehicle?”

She twisted in her seat so she could rest her forearms along the top of the door. “Last time I checked.” Her hand fell against the heated metal on the outside of the car, and she pulled it back with a hiss of pain, finger going to her mouth reflexively.

The officer made a strange sound, and she looked up to find him staring at her intently. Okay, not part of her plan, but she could work with that. She pushed more of her finger into her mouth, and let her tongue peek out along her bottom lip before withdrawing her finger in a long, slow motion. His eyes narrowed and he was suddenly right in front of her, hands curled over the edge of the door as he loomed over her. She froze, lips closed around the tip of her finger.

“I need to see proof,” he said. His subvocals had a definite growly quality to them now. Shepard unfroze and placed a hand on top of his.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.” Oh, she lost him on that one. “No Earth law enforcement has aliens in it.” She ran her thumb over his wrist bone. “You're way out of your jurisdiction.”

That threw him. He hadn't expected her to question his authority. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him encouragingly, and he pulled himself together. “Are you refusing to cooperate?”

“I can be very cooperative.” She leaned up, and his neck bent to match her as she closed the distance between them. “But only with the right person.” He finally cracked a smile, but before she could celebrate her victory, he withdrew his hands and took a step back, professional mask back in place.

“Speeding and failure to cooperate. I need you to get out of the car, ma'am.”

She considered arguing—the thought of him making her comply was enticing—but she decided not to push her luck just yet. She slid out, shut the door again with a bump of her hips, and leaned against the side of the car. His eyes tracked over her, lingering over the edges of her shorts and tank-top. Perfect. “Can't we work something out?” she asked.

“What did you have in mind?”

She lifted her chin to look up at the sky and pretended to think about it, running a hand absentmindedly along her collarbone. “Hmm, I wonder.” She took a small step toward him. He didn't move. “It might be easier to show you.” A second step put her close enough to touch him, and she rested her hands lightly on his chest. He watched her impassively. “The only person I could have hurt was you.” Another step. A deep breath was all it would take to brush her breasts against him. “A personal apology seems more appropriate than a fine to some bureaucracy.” She trailed her fingers down his keel bone to his stomach and below. However well he controlled his face, here was a part of him that couldn't conceal his interest. She took that deep breath. Her hands got fuller.

“That's wrong, ma'am.” Other than a faint husky quality to his voice, he sounded completely unaffected. Piqued, Shepard let her hands wander away.

“What is?” she asked. One hand, exploring his hip, grazed the side of his gun, and she suddenly found her wrists held in an immoveable grip.

“I'm not the only one you could have hurt.” He forced her back till she hit the car. He didn't seem that concerned with maintaining a proper distance anymore, holding her there with the pressure of his hips. His breath was hot on her lips and she strained forward to kiss him properly. He kept just out of reach, ducking his head to her neck instead. “You,” he said into the hollow of her throat, “could have gotten hurt.” He didn't nip at her skin, or lick at the small depression, or any of the other hundred things she was aching for him to do, just exhaled a hairsbreadth away.

“Consider me admonished,” she managed as he left a phantom trail up her neck to her ear. “Are all your warnings this friendly?”

His tongue came out to trace the outer shell of her ear. “Only with the right person.”

“That's—” she swallowed as her knees were nudged apart and a leg slipped between them “—that's very generous of you. I'd like to show my appreciation.” She flexed her wrists against his grip hopefully.

“So you can go for my gun again?”

“I wasn't going for your gun!”

“Really.” He drew her hands behind her to the small of her back, and pulled. She slipped higher on to his leg, hips jerking as the friction hit in just the right spot, and she gasped. He pressed and pulled again, and again, keeping her riding his thigh until she was nothing but a litany of pleas and curses. She was going to get off like this, with both of them still fully clothed, and it was going to be one of the really good ones, the kind that left her feeling mini-orgasms full minutes after she came down again.

She caught the fabric of his shirt in her teeth as she neared the edge, hardly needing the encouragement of his hands as she chased that last bit of –

He let go of her. She staggered as she lost his support, higher functions slowed by the overwhelming need throbbing through her body. She stared at him in shock.

He straightened his shirt. “That was your warning.”

God damn him. He had no business looking so poised and unaffected, not when she was panting and flushed and needed the car behind her to stay upright. Something like satisfaction entered his eyes. Damn him to hell. Two could play that game. Shepard drew herself up, shoulders back and gaze steady, ignoring the throbbing between her thighs. “Am I free to go then?”

He opened the car door for her. Bluff called. When she didn't move, his brow plates lifted. “Ma'am?” he said, just the faintest hint of mockery in his tone.

She stepped up to him, eyes locked on his as she reached sideways and pushed the door shut again. “I told you, it's Shepard.” She didn't bother with the slow approach this time, hands going straight to the clasps at the waistband of his pants. His mandibles went out a fraction of an inch, but he didn't make a move to stop her until she started to kneel.

“Not on the road.” His hands arrested her half-way down. “Safety first.” He glanced at her car, then shook his head and hauled her back on her feet, ignoring her sound of protest. The road would have been hard on her bare knees, but she hadn't planned on being on them for long—she needed to finish too badly for that—just enough make sure he was slick before taking him until that professional bearing came apart.

He had other ideas, pushing her toward his vehicle and its still flashing lights, one hand between her shoulder blades like she was a recalcitrant suspect. His talons were three searing pressure points, and she squirmed just to feel them drag over her skin. That earned her a hard grip on her upper arm, and he shoved her against the side of his car. Thankfully, his vehicle was a modern one, with a casing of molded plastic rather than the metal that would have made her putting out her hands to catch herself painful. As it was, the surface of the car was merely warm instead of burning hot, something she appreciated even more when he pressed her into it, the full length of his body against her back. He ran a hand down her side, and she was going to die if he insisted on playing this slow.

Shepard braced her hands on the car and shoved hard. He went stumbling back, and she spun low to hook a foot behind his ankle and send him crashing down into the grass. Someone less versed in turian subvocals might think the sound he made was an angry one, but she recognized it as the mark of arousal that it was. Turians. Figured that an honest come-on wouldn't be as effective as something with a touch of violence. Best not to give him time to think better of it.

She moved to swing a leg over him, but he was ready for her, waiting until she'd put herself off balance before surging up and throwing her on to her back. She kicked at him, and he caught her foot and slid his grip up to her knee, pushing outward until there was room for him to—fuck, yes—grind his hips into hers. His other hand slipped under her shirt to cup a breast, and she pulled at his uniform, because there was going to be naked skin involved in this, dammit. He let go of her leg as she got the first set of fasteners undone. Before she could start on the ones along his cowl, her wrist was enclosed by something smooth and cool.

Standard issue C-Sec handcuffs. Not the kind used by planetside law enforcement. “You don't have authority here.” Shepard tried to twist away, but he had all the leverage. Despite her best efforts, he got her turned and pulled her handcuffed hand behind her back.

"Do you really care?” he breathed on the backside of her ear, and she shuddered. No, at this point, she really didn't. The cuff closing around her other wrist was almost a relief, if it meant he'd finally fuck her.

He pulled her to her knees and let her lean back against him as he pushed her shorts down. His keel pressed uncomfortably into her shoulder, a reminder of how much this wasn't going to be like a human encounter. Judging by what else was pressed into her though, the important bits were similar enough for it to be mutually satisfying. If he'd only get on with it.

Having gotten her naked from the waist down, he seemed content to focus his attention elsewhere. His hand found her breast again, and he tugged slightly at her bound wrists to force her chest out more, before skimming his talons over her stomach, hipbone, thigh—everywhere but where she wanted his touch.

She normally didn't mind a little teasing. Anticipation could be half the fun, but here and now it was anything but. His hand wandered back up to her breast and her head dropped backwards to his shoulder with a half-sob of frustration. “Garrus,” she groaned.

The reaction was immediate. The pull on her wrists disappeared, and his touch gentled as he curved an arm around her waist. “The handcuffs too much? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” She turned her face into his neck. “I want you to get me off already.”

“Sorry. The research on this was kind of confusing.”

The thought of him watching cop porn didn't help at all. “You're doing fine—better than fine—but I don't want to do slow today.”

“Noted. So the handcuffs are okay?”

“Yes.” She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. “Now would you just -”

“You're pretty demanding for someone under arrest.” He tugged on the cuffs until she unbalanced and fell on to her back, and held her in place with one hand on her abdomen as he pulled her shorts and underwear the rest of the way off. You'll stay where I put you, that touch said. A needy sound escaped her, and it was a struggle to think of an appropriate rejoinder.

“Your C-Sec badge doesn't mean anything here.”

He bent to lick at the wetness on her inner thigh. “Exchange program. You could say I'm a cross-species liaison.” That surprised a laugh out of her, and he nuzzled the soft skin of her stomach before spreading her thighs and then spreading her so his tongue could curl in and around her. She fisted her hands in the grass, as his tongue thrust deep inside her and his thumb made tiny circles that sent sparks of pleasure through her body. Her heels dug into the ground as she pushed up against his hands and mouth, pleading for him not to stop, to keep going, just a little more, please.

It was a hard drag of his tongue that broke her, and her back arched, hips rolling helplessly as she came. He let her ride it out, keeping up his attention until she whimpered from the over-stimulation and tried to close her legs. He sat back then, wiping a hand over his face, and regarded her sprawled form with detached amusement. She closed her eyes and breathed, the aftershocks making her blood pulse in her clit like a second heartbeat. When she opened her eyes again, he had his pants open and was stroking himself as he watched her. She made a distressed noise at the sight and struggled to sit up. He didn't move, though his breathing sped up, seemingly enjoying the way her body flexed as she tried to use her bound arms to get upright.

“Don't,” she ordered, as she got herself on her knees again.

He ignored her demand. “Does under arrest mean something different for humans?”

“I thought you were letting me off with a warning.”

“Was I?”

“And I was going to express my gratitude.” She stared pointedly at his occupied hand.

“Nice try, but the cuffs stay on.”

“Who said anything about using my hands?” She licked her lips and his hand stuttered to a stop. After a moment's deliberation, he got to his feet. She tilted her head back as he approached to maintain eye contact, heart pounding. She'd never done this before without her hands free, without the ability to anchor herself, or control how much of him she took in. Did he know how vulnerable she was making herself?

He reached down and ran a thumb along her cheekbone and into her mouth, his other two fingers curling under her jaw. She sucked at the intruding digit, moving her tongue against the pad of his finger until he was breathing open-mouthed. He withdrew his hand and ran it slowly down her chest, leaving a cool trail of moisture from the hollow of her neck to just where her breasts began to swell. His hand flattened then, over her heart, and she could feel its rate increase against the light pressure. He smiled in satisfaction and moved his hand back up to her shoulder, steadying her as the tip of his cock brushed her lips. Her mouth opened, and he let an inch slip inside. She barely closed her lips around him before he pulled out again, and she strained forward, tongue darting out to lick at him. His other hand came to rest on top of her head, and he angled her so when he came close again her mouth was over his shaft.

She took the hint and ran her tongue over the length of it, paying special attention to the sensitive skin near the base where his plates parted. There she kissed, the skin fever-hot and rough against her lips. She curled her tongue on the underside of his cock and dragged it back to the tip, earning her a hiss of pleasure and spasm of fingers in her hair. She opened her mouth and exhaled on him, lips not quite making contact, and waited. His hand slid down to cup the side of her neck and his fingers tightened, not to pull, but to invite, and the sound he made when she took him into her mouth wasn't professional at all.

It would be easy for him to take control again now, with her on her knees and her hands bound, to force her head into the pace he wanted until he was satisfied. But he held her shoulder only to balance her as she worked him, and the fingers on her neck and cheek never did more than stroke her skin in encouragement.

She had originally planned to finish him like this, but that wasn't enough any more. She wanted him inside of her. Pulling off with one last open-mouthed kiss, she tilted her head back and said, “You'll have to come down here for the last part of your thank you, officer.”

He looked down at her, eyes half-lidded, and for second she thought he might refuse. Then he knelt, like a falcon stooping toward its prey.

“Undo the cuffs?”

He considered her. His hands ran down her sides to the hem of her shirt, then pushed it up over her breasts. She'd gone without a bra for the car ride, and he bent his head to lick around a nipple. She shivered, and his mandibles opened in a grin. He sat back and undid his gun belt. The thermal clip was tossed further into the grass, and the belt and gun were placed just out of her reach. Only then did he put his arms around her, pulling her tight against him so he could see over her shoulder to enter the release code.

The pressure on her wrists slackened. She ignored the slight twinge in her shoulders and placed both hands on his upper chest. “Lean back,” she ordered, softly but firmly. He did, in the opposite direction from his gun. He didn't go all the way down—the ground was too flat to accommodate his carapace—but propped himself up on his elbows instead, watching her warily. She took a moment to pull her shirt off, then straddled him, completely naked except for her sandals.

“I feel overdressed,” he deadpanned. His shirt was loose around the collar and his pants were open, but other than that, he was still fully clothed.

“You should.” She undid the rest of the clasps on his shirt and opened it so his chest was bare. Oh, very nice. She lowered herself until his cock slid along her entrance and watched the interplay of plates and skin as he took a sharp breath. There was some faded scarring on his upper right side, and she ran a curious hand over it.

“Not everyone is as happy to see me as you,” he said by way of explanation.

“But some people are?” The thought irked her.

“Sure. Law-abiding citizens are always happy to see the police.” He smirked, leaving no doubt that he wasn't including her in that group.

She reached down and positioned him under her. “Law-abiding citizens have no reason to be grateful to a policeman exercising his discretion.”

“I see your point,” he said, voice tight. “Were you going to be grateful, or just talk about it?”

She smiled and sank down on to him.

“Fuck.” Some of his careful control broke, and he thrust up into her, stretching and filling her. God, he felt so good. She clenched her muscles around him as she caught her balance, earning herself another curse. The smell of dirt and grass mingled in the air as she rode him at a steady pace, until he lost patience and pushed up, repositioning them so she was in his lap. His hands held her hips as he urged her faster, and she wrapped her arms around his cowl and just held on, pressing close as she could get as she felt him start to pulse.

“That's it.” She scraped her teeth along the sensitive skin of his inner cowl. “Come in me.”

“Planning on it,” he panted, almost breathless. He tensed, and she leaned back so she could see his face as he thrust deep within her one last time and did as she ordered, all masks gone.

It was perfect—he was perfect—and when he began to relax again she kissed him like she'd wanted to from the start. He made a pleased sound and kissed her back, and when she opened her eyes at the end of it, he was smiling, warm and familiar. “So,” he said. “Do I have to give you the don't-do-it-again speech?”

Shepard laughed and let herself slide out of his lap into the grass, sweat cooling in the slight breeze. “That wasn't what I'd call a disincentive.”

“Good.” Garrus turned so he could lie down next to her and draped an arm over her midsection.

“You know, there's a house with a perfectly good bed over there."

“In a minute.” He nuzzled her hair sleepily. “Was it what you wanted?”

“Mmm, yes. Although,” she said thoughtfully, “if we do this again, I think you should leave the handcuffs on and just bend me over the hood of your car.”

“I can do that.” He nipped at her ear. “But before I do, I want to use them when you are in the mood to go slow.”

She shivered at the thought. “I like the way you think, Vakarian.”

Garrus chuckled and propped himself up on an elbow. “So, it's a date?”

She kissed him again, long and lingering.

“It's a date.”