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All Up The Seething Coast

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“Mordin, I swear to God, if you are teasing me about this, I will take that scalpel and --”

“Shepard! Please! Not teasing. Created compound to negate reactions between dextro-levo proteins!” For the first time since Shepard had known him, Mordin looked terrified. She could only imagine what her face looked like.

“You did what? Did Garrus ask you for this?” If he had, the only question left was which body part she’d remove first. Before kissing him senseless. Funny how love made you not care quite so much about invasions of privacy.

Mordin had the audacity to look offended. “Not at all. Developed under my own initiative. Thought you’d be more grateful.”

Shepard thought she was choking on her tongue. “You thought I’d be grateful that you took it upon yourself to develop medicine that would help me --” Help me have the three greatest orgasms of my life, followed by two weeks of even better orgasms as Garrus decided to get creative. Oh, and bonus! I’m sleeping more than three hours at a stretch.

She turned her glare back on Mordin. “That would help me,” she said, and left it at that.

Mordin nodded. “Yes. Some form of release needed. Stress of war starting to show. Emotional release not sufficient. Physical stimulation required as well.”

“Well, invasive interest in my personal life aside, Mordin, I guess I should be thanking you.” Shepard debated briefly shaking Mordin’s hand, then clasped hers behind her back. No need to let him know just how grateful she was.

“Should thank Tali’Zorah as well. Her contributions were crucial to project’s success.”

Oh my God.” That answered fifty questions about why Tali had spent most of the last two weeks alternating between leaving a room whenever Shepard or Garrus walked in and projecting pure fury from behind her faceplate. “I can no longer handle this conversation.”

She was almost at the door when Mordin called her name.

“Shepard! Should know that Officer Vakarian only agreed to try compound to help you.” Was that reproach in Mordin’s voice? “In the interests of reciprocity, took the liberty of developing companion compound.” Cradled in the palm of his hand was a small pill bottle, filled with tiny, canary-yellow pills.

“Warning about ingestion no longer valid, once these are taken,” Mordin said, and damn if he didn’t look smug. “Take three, one hour before initiating coitus. Only one side effect: temporary body temperature increase.”

Shepard scooped the pill bottle out of Mordin’s hand. “Right,” she said. When nothing else occurred to her, she nodded at Mordin and tucked the pills in her pocket.

Reciprocity, huh?



Thanks to whatever EDI said to Allers this time, I’m off the hook for the interview tomorrow. Free all night if you are.


His reply was almost immediate.


Give me an hour. Finally got my father on the comms.


Shepard sighed a barely-there thank God and smiled at her terminal. Garrus had only gotten the news that his father and sister had escaped Palaven a few days ago, but he hadn’t been able to communicate with either of them since.


Take your time. And yes, that is an order.


She tossed the pill bottle in the air and let it smack into her palm with a satisfying little thwak.

I don’t make a habit of putting strange things in my mouth, but here I am, getting ready to do it twice in one night.

Not that any part of Garrus was strange anymore, or at least not in the initial oh-my-God-what-do-I-do-with-seven-feet-of-naked-turian way that had marked the night before the Omega-4 relay. He was different, but the basic components were the same. And so far, standard operating procedures had worked just fine for them.

She poured a glass of water and counted three pills, lining them up on her desk.

Well, standard operating procedures had worked until Garrus got his hands on Mordin’s magic pills, and decided his life’s work (when he wasn’t killing Reapers) was to make her orgasm as many times as possible. He hadn’t stopped strutting since That Night, and she’d been too well-fucked to complain. Let him strut. He’d earned it.

Strut aside, he was still, well, Garrus. Flustered by the most surprising things, still obsessed with the cannons, but brave and loyal, with a strange kind of fox-like insight. Deadly, focused, full to brimming with gallows humor, and sweet, in the most unexpected ways. How many other people in the entire galaxy could brag that their partners had taken a mad scientist’s advice, just to make sure they could get a good night’s sleep?

God, how he loves me. She realized she was smiling dazedly at the pills and water glass, and forced herself to be serious. Decision time.

Shepard knew herself well enough to understand her hesitation didn’t come from insecurity; she was very good at giving head -- more importantly, she loved giving head -- but when she’d become a one-turian woman, she’d understood that wasn’t an option. It had disappointed her, because seeing Garrus writhing as she kept him on the edge as long as she could had been her favorite fantasy even before they broached the subject of blowing off steam. But she’d decided to take what she could, and he’d never complained. Why would he? Turians didn’t do oral sex. Too bad, but those teeth made it impossible.

No, she wasn’t worried about that. It was subtler. What if Garrus wanted this to be a singular gift? Something he wanted to give her, without any payback or thought beyond just acceptance? He was generous, but it was an iron-hard, turian kind of generosity, more about sacrifice for a greater good than altruism. She didn’t want to risk offending him.

But as much as he loved her, she loved him. She wanted to try to give him this -- because sex was small, but love was huge. If he stopped her, the pills would go into a drawer and stay there.

Shepard put the pills on the center of her tongue and swallowed them with a sip of water. Within seconds, she felt herself getting warmer -- nothing uncomfortable, but enough for a sweat to break out on her back.

Hmm. Interesting. Do I have time for a quick shower? Garrus liked her hot and flushed, but she preferred to wait for him to make her that way.

A quick glance at the clock told her that her internal debate had wasted more time than she thought, and if Garrus’ estimate of an hour was accurate, she’d have to wait about twenty minutes before she could ingest. Well, there were a number of ways she could fill the time, and all the better -- she’d be able to surprise him.

Speaking of surprises, tonight would be the perfect night for one she’d had hidden in a drawer for weeks, since the last visit to the Citadel. Liara had convinced her to stop in one of the asari-run pleasure shops, and she hadn’t left empty-handed. Now that turian-human couples were only rare, and not non-existent, there was a growing market for accessories.

It had cost a fortune, but Shepard had a feeling it would be worth every credit.

She ducked into the shower, feeling the hot water flush her skin, and laughed. Poor Garrus. He had no idea what was about to happen.


Exactly one hour after his last message, the door to her cabin opened to let Garrus in. Shepard stayed where she was by the bed, her back to him. Don’t fidget, she told herself.

“Shepard?” She could hear the whisper of soft cloth as he came in. “Shepard, is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” she said, dropping her voice half an octave, the way that always made him rumble deep in his throat. “Just getting a few things ready. How’s your dad?”

“He’s fine -- Solana was hurt in the evacuation, but not badly. They’re both fine and --” His voice cut off when she turned around. “Shepard, I can’t talk about my family when you’re like --”

“Like what?” she asked innocently. This was going to be so much fun.

“Naked, and --” He went silent again, a watchful, shocked silence, and Shepard wondered if she’d made a very bad misstep. “Oh,” he murmured. His hands balled into fists.

“Do you like it?” she asked, and took a step toward him, into the light from her aquarium. Garrus just gaped at her, his eyes focused on the wide band of cloth at her waist. Cobalt and sapphire blues mixed with gold thread, with long ties she ran through her fingers while cutting him a look under her lashes. “I thought it’d be fun to play with. And it’s not just pretty. It tightens.” She pulled on the ties and felt the rough fabric chafe against her skin as the band cinched in her waist.

Garrus groaned and staggered down the stairs. She stayed still, holding the band tight even as it made it hard to breathe. His hands came to rest just over her waist, the warmth from his palms skating over her skin. He didn’t touch her. He just looked.

“Can you -- can you make it tighter?” She nodded and twisted the tie around her wrist to get more pressure. When she snapped her arm down, the air gusted out of her lungs. Garrus still hadn’t touched her, but it looked like his self-control was about to break. Shepard wanted him open-mouthed and gasping as soon as possible, so she decided to help him along.

“Do you want to try? I think it can go a little bit tighter.” Her voice was thready from lack of air. Garrus took the tie from her, staring at it like he expected it to disappear, but after a moment, he wrapped it around his own wrist and slowly drew the band tighter.

It was starting to hurt, and she’d have marks on her waist tomorrow, but Shepard just lifted her arms and looped them lightly over Garrus’ cowl. He was already panting, a low thrum running endlessly out of him. She leaned in close to whisper.

“I can leave it on all night, but you have to promise me something.”

“Anything, Shepard, anything you want.” He dropped the ties and she breathed in as his hands came to rest at her waist. They were shaking.

“You have to trust me. Even if something seems odd. Promise?”

His gaze flicked up to hers for one considering moment, just as she expected. She met his gaze without blinking until he nodded.

“Say it.”

“I promise.” He bent close to nuzzle at her neck and shivered against her. “I’d ask what the occasion is, but I’m afraid that you’ll disappear if I do.”

Shepard laughed. “Good plan. Now --” She gasped when he lifted her and laid her on her back on the couch. She tipped her head at the bed. “You could have just put me there, you know.”

“Too far,” he growled, and stretched out on top of her. He couldn’t hold this position long, so Shepard wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips against his. She loved the way he felt on top of her, with the catches on his clothes pinching at her skin. Garrus nipped from the hollow of her neck to the top of the band before running his tongue underneath it. And oh, the things that tongue could do to her.

When he started to slide down between her legs, spreading her thighs wide, Shepard sat up.

“Uh-uh, not tonight.” He gave her the turian equivalent of a frown, even as his hands went back to stroke her waist.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh no, just have something else planned. You, on the couch. Now.” Garrus licked her thigh, holding her gaze, and her resolution wavered. “Oh God, Garrus, dammit, get on the couch.”

“Or?” He flicked his tongue against her clitoris, just enough to make her jump. He’s gotten too good at this. Bastard.

“Or this comes off, never to be seen again.”

He flicked his mandibles at her. “You don’t mean that.”

She sighed; he really did know her too well. “Fine. I don’t mean that. But I will send you back to the main battery, and then I’ll go to bed. With this still on.”

Garrus froze, the tip of his tongue just outside his mouth. “You don’t mean that either,” he said, and she heard the nervous hum under his words.

“Push me and find out,” she said, and when he started to reply, she slid one foot down over his waist. “Are you going to get on the couch or not?”

He’d never moved so fast outside of a mission. She had to slide off the edge of the couch to make room for him when he fell back against the cushions. Once he was more or less settled, watching her with a mixture of wariness and hazy arousal, she straddled his lap and started undoing the clasps of his tunic.

“Your clothes are so goddamn complicated, Garrus. You’re lucky I like you so much, or I’d have given up already.” He didn’t say anything, and she wanted to comment on how he seemed to have run the smartass reservoir dry, but the obedient way he lifted his arms over his head when she tugged up his tunic stopped her.

He really doesn’t want to mess this up, she thought. I shouldn’t tease him so much if he wants this so badly.

Shepard pressed in close to his carapace. Turians didn’t sweat, but he was warmer than usual. His hands felt hot even through the band when they came up to play at her waist. She slid a hand around the back of his head, under his fringe, and leaned in close to whisper.

“If I’d have known you would like it so much, I wouldn’t have waited to show it to you.” He groaned, groping for the tie and giving it a sharp tug. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his neck.

“You’re wicked,” he hissed, the constant hum droning under his words. “A wicked, beautiful woman.”

She rolled her hips against his groin, grinning into his neck when she felt the plates there start to shift. “Not anything you haven’t told me before, Garrus. Your lines are getting old.”

“You’re not really asking me to be creative right now, are you?” He held her down by the hips, right over his cock. “I’d say my energy is better spent in other ways.”

“Mmm, I’ll have to agree with you.” Garrus thrust against her. “My God, Garrus, yes, there.”

“I suppose that means we’re both wicked now,” he murmured. “Oh, you’re so wet already.” The thrum in his voice was almost a whine. She risked a glance at the clock. Three more minutes to go. With a sigh, she wriggled off his lap and onto her knees in front of him.

“Come back,” Garrus ordered, reaching down for her, but Shepard moved out of his reach with a laugh.

“I told you to trust me, Garrus,” she said. “You stay where you are, and don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch --”

The look on her face silenced him, and he leaned back against the cushions.

“Good boy.” Her fingers shook a little when she unfastened his trousers. If Garrus noticed, he didn’t say anything, but it was hard to believe he didn’t, the way he was watching her.

His plates had already spread open completely, and when she finally got her hand around his cock it was flushed and slick.

That had surprised her the first time -- turian males provided their own lubrication. And then there were the ridges along either side, and the way his cock was thicker at the base than the head, and the thin sheath that covered his length until he came -- she’d had a laundry list of adjustments to make, but now?

Now her mouth watered just looking at his cock.

She started stroking him -- lightly, because Garris was always most sensitive right after the plates had slid away. She took her time, watching his face for any sign he was getting too close, keeping her strokes just barely more than a tease. The low broken growl that passed for a moan was already building in his chest. In the past two weeks, she’d gotten very fond of that growl. Especially how it felt when her legs were on either side of his head and it vibrated up into her cunt.

Dammit, Shepard, focus. Check the time. She risked one more glance over Garrus’ shoulder at the clock. Time.

“If I’d known time was such a concern,” said Garrus, “I’d have made an appointment.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, a little guiltily. He flicked his mandibles at her, already forgiving. “Just making sure of something.”

“Making sure of what?”

“Garrus, you really need to shut up. You’re making me feel like I’m doing a bad job.” She pulled her hand off his cock just to hear him whine, and very deliberately ran her tongue from the pad of her index finger to her thumb and back. Garrus watched her tongue without blinking, his talons biting into the cushions. That’s right, keep watching. More where that came from. “Am I doing a bad job?” With her slick fingers, she circled the head of his cock and slowly turned her wrist. The low growl punched out of him and he thrust up into her hand. The dangerous part was past; if he hadn’t lost control by now, she could tease him as much as she wanted.

And oh, how she was going to.

She tightened her fingers and dragged the sheath of skin down to the base of his cock. Underneath, his cock was slick and dark blue, with a clear bead of fluid at the tip. Shepard glanced up to make sure Garrus was watching, and bent her head to catch the fluid with the point of her tongue.

“F--aah!” Garrus’ entire body went taut. “Shepard, what --”

“Shut up, Garrus,” she said, still holding his eyes, letting him feel the warmth of her tongue before she sealed her lips around the head of his cock.


Garrus went still and quiet, even the low hum breaking off as he finally, finally began to understand what was happening. Shepard pulled back; without the sheath in place, Garrus was over-sensitive, and even her tongue might have been too rough for the thin skin there.

When she looked up, his eyes were hazy. His hands moved uncertainly over the cushions, trembling, and she reached out with her free hand.

“Garrus, I’ve got you.” The trembling under her palm stopped. “I can stop if you need me to.”

Something in his eyes came back into focus. “It’s not that,” he said, his voice thin. “It’s just strange. I have to get used to it.”

Shepard nodded. “Okay.” She kept her head bent down, on the off-chance that she wasn’t able to hide her disappointment. It had been unrealistic to expect that she could vault over this particular species difference in one night; at least she still had the band to tease him with.

She planted her hands on either side of his legs and started to push herself up, but Garrus’ hands shot out and caught her around the wrists.

“Shepard,” he said very slowly, as if she was refusing to understand something on purpose, “how am I supposed to get used to it if you don’t keep going?”

She blinked at him. He gave her the turian equivalent of a smirk.

“Oh,” she said intelligently. Then “oh”.

A laugh broke out of him and tumbled down into a groan when she licked up his length and swirled her tongue in a lazy circle around the head. If her research hadn’t misled her, there was a spot just below the slit that would -- .

Garrus strained up against her mouth and she pressed the flat of her tongue to that spot as his cock throbbed against her hand. Another clear drop slipped out and she caught it with the tip of her tongue. Finally, she could taste him and not have to worry about mouthwash or a hurried shower. He wasn’t sweet, but not salty either; there was a tang, and a slight tingling numbness that was gone almost before she noticed it.

“You know, Garrus,” she said, her lips still against his cock, “you don’t taste bad at all.” She traced the thick vein with the pad of her thumb. “Not bad at all. But I might be missing something.”

“What?” Garrus panted. “What are you -- you really can’t expect me to think right now.”

“If I was cruel, I might,” Shepard sealed her mouth over the head of his cock again and sucked. Garrus whined -- actually whined -- and jerked his hips in a sharp, uncontrolled movement. She had to reach out to press him back into the cushions, taking care not to touch his waist or hips. He had enough to focus on. “But what I meant was that I’m just getting a little taste,” she tilted her head back so he could watch her as she ran her tongue from the base of his cock to the head before she took him inside her mouth. When he whined again, trying to thrust into her, she pulled back and stroked him lazily.

“I think I’ll need to taste a lot more to get the full effect.” She laid her head on his thigh and kept stroking, smiling up at him. What she looked like, she could only imagine -- lips already red and spit-slick, a flush high on her cheeks -- but what was more important was what Garrus looked like when he made the connection and just gaped at her.

“You’re not serious,” he murmured. “You can’t be.”

Shepard lifted her head and gave him a look that made him shudder. “Is that a challenge, Garrus?” She let go of his cock long enough to grab his hands and put them on the back of her head. “Because I would love nothing more than to prove you wrong.”

“Shepard --” She ignored him and held his hands in place as she bent down again and swallowed him as far as she could in one quick dip of her head. He thrust into her mouth on pure reflex and froze when she gagged. He tried to pull his hands away but she didn’t let him break her grip, and when he started to push into her again, she moaned. Positive reinforcement never hurt.

She felt him twitch, and when he pushed her head down she felt his cock hit the back of her throat. Gagging, she tried to pull back to catch her breath, but Garrus held her head down, the moan grinding out of him again. His cock was too thick at the base for her to swallow him down completely, but for one brief moment her air cut off and sparks lit the space behind her eyes.

Oh God yes, she thought. Garrus, as always, was a quick learner.

He let her up a few seconds later, right before the need for air outweighed the slow heat building between her legs. She pulled away, gasping and coughing, but any self-consciousness she might have felt was gone when Garrus’ hands covered her breasts, insistently but carefully. He traced circles over her nipples, but his eyes were fixed firmly on her waist.

“How long have you been planning this?” he asks in his new reedy voice. With the bottom subvocals peeled away, he sounds years younger.

“This?” She ran her fingers along the ties of the band and gave him a slow smile that made him shiver. “Ever since I saw it. I just couldn’t think of the right moment.”

“What about the -- the rest of it?” He sounded almost shy, and Shepard had to try not to laugh.

“The rest of what, Garrus?” He brought his mandibles tight against his face and tried to look disapproving. He failed.

“What you’re doing, Shepard.”

“You can’t say it?” she smirked, but when his fingers pinched her nipples, twisting with just enough pressure to make her squirm.

“No,” he said, and she squirmed again. The subvocals were back, a bitter-dark rumble that seemed connected to her pulse. “You’re going to put that mouth back to use, and not for smart-ass comments.”

Oh, she knew this game, and she loved him for understanding it without needing an explanation.

“Then what am I going to use it for?” He barely let her get the words out before he’d taken two fistfuls of her hair and pulled her head back down.

Shepard didn’t open her mouth as much as she started gaping at Garrus’ quick code-switch, and it was enough for him to thrust up into her, another groan climbing out of his throat. Her hands clawed at his thighs, scraping at the skin between his plates and trying not to moan too loudly.

Shepard,” Garrus breathed. His cock was too thick at the base to fit comfortably through the ring of her lips, but this wasn’t meant to be comfortable. Not for her, at least, and she liked it a little rough. And this? Choking on Garrus’ cock while he strained and thrust into her mouth?

This she loved.

Nothing even resembling words came out of Garrus; just half-formed syllables and groans that fell off into silence. She let her tongue play over the head of his cock, over the slit, over the flared curves and sharp ridges. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t breathe easily -- or, when he forced her head down and held her there until she choked, at all. What mattered was that all Garrus’ control was gone, and he was just a pile of sensation and need.

Just like her.

Shepard had to fight not to touch herself; if Garrus had been able to focus on her pleasure to the exclusion of his, he deserved the same from her. But the temptation was overpowering -- she was wet enough to know Garrus could slide into her without any resistance, and the thought of him filling her nearly ruined all her good intentions.

Then Garrus’ hands dropped away from her head, and she pulled away to look at him.

He looked nothing short of debauched; breathing shallow and fast, his cock resting heavily against his thigh, still leaking a steady, thin stream of fluid,. His eyes were closed. The wicked urge to climb into his lap came over her, dizzyingly powerful.

“Garrus, do you need me to stop?”

He made a light, indistinct noise.

“We’ve talked about this. You’ve got permission to do whatever you want, as much as you want, as long as you stop if I tell you to. Remember?”

Garrus nodded. “It just -- I don’t want to hurt you. It’s all very...” He tilted his head to the side, a gesture that covered a lot of different ideas, and one that he’d picked up from her. She squeezed his knee, overwhelmed by the confidence of what she felt for him.

“Very what?”

His hand traced a circle on the back of her head, but that was the only response she got. She nestled close, her mouth at the join of his hip and thigh, and let a husky whisper slip out of her mouth.

“If it feels so good, you should just fuck my mouth until you come, Garrus.” He jerked up against her, panting. She bit her lip, trying to block out the images of just sliding down over his cock and riding him. “You were doing such a good job before. All I could smell was you, all I could taste was you -- I don’t want you to stop.”

She licked a trail up his cock, slowly, just enough to tease, but his hands grabbed her hair and pulled her back down.

He babbled, nonsense words that were barely more than noises, and what words she could make out weren’t translating. Endearments or curses, she had no idea what he was saying -- and after a few seconds of trying to catch her breath as he fucked into her mouth, she didn’t care.

The sounds they made were filthy: wet sucking sounds as his cock pounded in and out of the ring of her lips, her moans around him, pushed deep into her throat, and her gasps when she managed to breathe. She couldn’t swallow, and her chin and neck were slick with their combined fluids -- and she was hot, so hot she could barely think. When she opened her eyes, she saw the flushed skin on her arms, and knew the rest of her looked the same, covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Touching him, as much of him as possible, was all she wanted. The ache in her cunt could wait. Her hands moved over his waist, his chest, his thighs. She had all of him. All of Garrus, and he had all of her.

An image, so immediate it could cut her open, filled her head: her, crouched over Garrus, his cock in her mouth, his tongue thrusting into her cunt, inside her twice over until all she could feel was him.

Oh fuck, oh fuck. She might have even tried to say it, and the hum of her words, caught in her mouth, was the tipping point.

Garrus’ voice broke open an instant before his thrusts stuttered, and the reedy notes were gone. Now there was only the rumble, like stones falling, and the air between them shivered. His hands gripped her hair hard enough to hurt. Tears blurred her vision, and she dug her nails, briefly, as a reminder, into the soft hide on his thighs.

Garrus wailed and thrust one more time as his hands dropped away. Shepard felt the first pulse at the base of his cock and sucked harder, pushing down until she’d swallowed him as far as she could.

The burst of hot fluid hit the back of her throat, tangy and thick -- and so much more than she’d expected. She choked and pulled back, careful of her teeth, just in time for the next burst to catch her across the cheek.

Oh god, this is --

The rest of the thought was wiped away in a white-hot sheet of pleasure when he kept coming -- on her lips, her throat. She was a mess, a sweaty, flushed, half-delirious mess, and she couldn’t stop grinning. From experience, she knew that Garrus’ orgasms tended to be shorter than a human male’s, but they were proportionately more intense. When the last spasm ran through him, she eased away, hands gently sliding over his legs, and let him remember how to breathe.

She rocked back on her heels, aware again of the band at her waist, the cold floor under her feet, and the distant ache in her cunt. Patience was a virtue, but she was still feeling very, very wicked.

When he lifted his head and heaved in a deep breath, she climbed onto his lap, his cock nestled against her bare thigh. His plates felt cool against her skin, like they only did after sex.

He saw her face, and immediately started forming an apology, stammering even though she still grinned. For a heartbeat, she wished she could see herself through his eyes -- covered in his come, a hot, impatient gleam in her eyes. If she didn’t shut him up now, he’d never stop apologizing.

Shepard bent her head and kissed him. Her lips moved over his mouth, with just a hint of tongue, and against her thigh, his cock twitched.

“It’s great, Garrus,” she said into his mouth. Her voice was a sweet rasp. “And unless I miss my guess, you feel the same.” She rolled her hips. He groaned.

“Shepard, you’re --”

“Covered?” She kissed him again, messy and wet. “No one to blame for that but yourself. And do you see me complaining?” His tongue flickered out to the corner of her mouth. She shuddered. Positive reinforcement? She was practically Pavlovian when it came to that tongue now.

He laughed. His heartbeat pounded, still a bit unsteady, against her ribs.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her skin, so sincere she couldn’t do anything but press her forehead to his. They held each other for a long moment, until the heat started to fade from Shepard’s skin and her thoughts turned toward the shower. She started to shift off Garrus, ignoring the way her body tried to remind her that it hadn’t gotten quite enough attention yet, but her caught her by the thigh and pulled her into his lap.


His hand crept over the band at her waist. “You told me that your interview was cancelled. We’ve got the whole night. And we’ve only used --” he made a show of checking her clock “--an hour of it. I know you, and you only need about five hours of sleep.” He picked her up easily and carried her to the bed. “Which means I get a chance to play.” Her eyes dropped to his cock and she bit her lip.

“Damn, Garrus.”

“What can I say? You’re inspiring.” He wrapped the tie of the band around his hand and drew it tight, slowly. She writhed, the ache in her cunt driving deeper as he knelt between her knees. He pushed her legs open and smirked up at her when she gasped.

“Recursive reciprocity,” he said. When she started to laugh, he lowered his head and made her laughter turn into a cry as he drew the band ever tighter.