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“Have you got a minute?”
“Could it wait?” Garrus turned away from his calibrations at the main battery console to fix his attention on her with an amused flutter of his un-scarred mandible, “I’m in the middle of some calibrations,” he teased.
Vakarian leaned back against the console in an open invitation for her to continue, his sharp eyes roving her body. With his easy demeanor, he made it difficult to believe that they had just done the impossible. Destroyed the Collector’s base, recovered their crew, and had by some miracle managed not to take a single casualty.
“I’d say that something went right,” Shepard said softly, closing the distance between them and hummed appreciatively as he pulled her flush against his unarmored chest. An answering rumble of his own subvocals joined in. She brushed the back of her hand against his scarred mandible, and his eyes gently closed as he leaned into the touch.
He chuckled, holding her tightly and looked into her green eyes, “A couple somethings,” he agreed.
“EDI,” Shepard addressed the room.
“Yes, Commander?” EDI answered immediately.
“Lock the Battery door- I need an uninterrupted moment with Vakarian.”
“...of course, Commander,” maybe it was Shepard’s growing familiarity with the AI, maybe it was projection, or perhaps Joker’s influence on EDI, but her tone sounded conspiratorial and knowing. The glow of the battery door lock indicator turned red, “Logging you out, Commander,” EDI confirmed.
“Call me paranoid,” Garrus quipped, “but I think EDI may be spying on us.”
Shepard shook her head and gave a short nervous laugh, her chest tightened, and her thoughts grew cloudy with anxious uncertainty. Shepard clung to him more tightly, burying her face into his neck.
Garrus released her waist long enough to pull away his gloves and gently run his taloned digits through her free-flowing hair, tucking the red strands behind an ear. She sighed, stilled against him, then gripped him more urgently around his broad chest.
“Jane,” his voice was soothing and heartbreaking in equal measure, “What's going to happen to you… once you’ve dismissed the crew- and report back to the Alliance?”
She could hear the conflict in his dual-toned voice. He didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to rendezvous with or transfer to the already arranged Hierarchy Naval ship… but he understood he couldn’t stay with her on the Normandy. It would be tactically disadvantageous for him to spend God knows how long held up in an interrogation chamber… instead of spending their borrowed time to prepare for the imminent Reaper threat.
“I don’t know,” she exhaled, only to greedily breathe the scent of him back into her lungs, “Someone needs to answer for the Alpha Relay’s destruction, and there isn’t a precedent for destroying an entire system.”
“You had no other choice!” and Garrus was frustrated now, “They can’t use you as political fodder, not after all you’ve done for the galaxy.”
Shepard tried to sooth him with a gentle touch, trailing her fingers behind his fringe to rub at the sensitive hide she’d discovered only a couple nights ago before their 'suicide' run. She hoped that Garrus was right, that maybe she would only be placed under house arrest.
“I can’t lose you again, Jane,” his whispered confession was fierce, and he pulled away so that he could look into her eyes, gaze half veiled behind his ever-present visor. The device probably displayed her heightened heartbeat. Her hand stilled against him under the unyielding weight of his eyes, “We- I can’t-" he sighed with frustration, "It was an awful empty galaxy without you.”
His raw declaration broke her heart in two.
“This isn’t goodbye, Garrus,” Shepard assured him, though she knew the promise was empty.
He knew it, too, and the pain of having lost her once before was reflected in his blue gaze. No promise could be made or kept with certainty in war.
The unguarded keen which vibrated through his vocal cords sang of heartbreak and desperation. He bowed his head and pressed his forehead to hers. They stood there in each other's arms for a time, three and five fingered hands softly mapping the other until the sharp pain of their pending separation became less raw, more bearable. Tender hands seeking comfort transformed into desire and soft breathing turned heavy with want.
Shepard slid her hands beneath his tunic and gripped at his waist which provoked a soft nip at her neck and an approving growl.
“Maybe we should move this to your cot, big guy,” Shepard suggested smugly, digging her blunt nails more firmly into his sensitive sides to pull him along with her as she stepped backward.
Garrus grumbled against her neck in what sounded like agreement and his hands found her hips. He followed after her, as he always did; helping to guide her backward into the corner where he’d made himself at home on the Normandy SR-2. When her calves collided with his cot Shepard abandoned the right side of Garrus’ waist in favor of removing his visor. When the gear pulled away from his face it powered down and Shepard set the accessory on a stacked pile of crates. His gaze felt more naked without it, and she traced the cobalt colony markings along his facial plates, her gaze soft and touch light.
“Careful, Shepard- You’ll make me blush,” Garrus said, all his playful teasing returned in full force as he leaned once again into her touch and pulled at the hem of her top.
“Is that a request for me to stop?” she asked, equally teasing.
“Spirits, no.”
Her shirt was enthusiastically and unceremoniously removed, and Garrus pressed her down onto his cot.
“I can hardly believe how soft you are under all that armor,” he said, running the back of a talon along her side. She shivered at his touch, the sensation igniting the memories of the contrast of his plates against her much softer flesh as they had come together, somewhat awkwardly, for the first time not so long ago.
“You’re the only person who’s ever described me as soft,” she grinned, and he huffed. Shepard lifted her hips as she wiggled out of her pants, helped immediately by Garrus who carefully relieved her of her boots, “You seem a little overdressed for the occasion,” Shepard remarked with a sly tug at his tunic.
“Impatient,” he chuckled, a warm rich sound that Shepard thought she would never tire of. She cherished it.
He forewent the removal of her underwear in favor of undressing himself, and Shepard lifted herself up on her elbows to get a proper eye full of his body. He was beautiful. All hard and sharp edges and breathtakingly alien. He was quick and efficient with the removal of his clothes and before Shepard could fully appreciate his nakedness, he was back on her, and her bra and panties swiftly joined their compatriots on the floor.
Garrus knelt at the foot of the cot and pulled her toward him, spreading her legs and setting her calves over his shoulders, “Brace yourself. I’m about to unmake you,” he promised before lowering himself to her center and laving the full breadth of his blue tongue through her labia to then circle teasingly around her clit.
Shepard fell back against his cot with a yelp of delight. He held her open, both hands pinning her down so she couldn’t wiggle away as he subjected her to the torture of his tongue.
“F-uck,” she panted, hands blindly finding his fringe to encourage him closer.
The touch stirred a hungry rumble from him, the vibration of which moved through her and left her pliant. She mewled as her pleasure gathered in her core; she lifted her head just enough to look down her body to appreciate the view of him nestled between her thighs, eating her out as if he were made for it. Each pass of his wet, slightly rough tongue made her toes curl and hips flex uselessly against him. Garrus must have sensed she’d lifted her head because he opened his eyes and caught her watching him. It was a predatory and challenging stare he leveled on her, and she refused to look away. Watched as his brow plates furrowed in concentration and relaxed with triumphant glee as he found places of her that made her muscles twitch and spasm beneath his palms and against his mouth. The pressure and promise of her swiftly culminating release shocked her, and it must have shown on her face.
Shepard felt his mandibles move against her thighs in what must have been a shit-eating grin. He was, admittedly, a quick study, and had earned himself this amount of smugness. He was taking her apart as quickly and efficiently as she’d seen him service his M-92 Mantis. Fuck. Shepard whimpered, thighs trembling. The idea of Garrus, perfect Garrus, servicing her like he did his beloved rifle was fucking intoxicating.
“Close,” she choked out, head heavy and weighed down by pleasure, a hair's breadth away from oblivion. She attempted to rock her hips against his glorious mouth to chase her completion, but he held her firm. For someone who’d done this only once before he was unbelievable. With a concentrated and relentless focus Garrus pressed her hips down and she could feel herself surrender to him, her eyes became unfocused, and with a final, agonizing, lick, he’d pushed her over the edge. Blinding pleasure punched violently through her nerves. Garrus groaned in encouragement as he felt her pulse beneath him and his wicked tongue pursued her, offering no quarter as he rained feather-light and even passes of his tongue over her clit, completely leveling her as he drew out her orgasm. He attended to her, licks and hums slowly abating as she came back to herself.
He pulled away from her center, giving both of her inner thigh a playful nip, before carefully climbing up her body to kiss her as she lay boneless. She deepened the kiss immediately and moaned at the taste of herself clinging to him. When they broke for air Garrus straddled her and ran the rough palms of his hands down her sides.
“My technique was acceptable,” he mused.
“Seemed well calibrated to me,” Shepard sighed contentedly, and Garrus preened a little at her praise.
She gently shoved at his keel, eyeing the slick and slightly bulging seam of his pelvic plates which were flush with her abs, “I’d like to return the favor.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he raised himself off her slightly then paused, “How'd you like to do this?”
Shepard slid out from under Garrus and settled on the floor, she patted the cot directly in front of her, “Take a seat,” she said, looking up at him, “and hold onto something,” she grinned.
“This isn’t going to be like riding shotgun in the Mako, is it?” he asked, only half-teasing, as he settled himself before Jane, legs bracketing her.
“Concerned I’m going to wreck you too, Vakarian?” she grinned, running her hands up along his shins and over his platted thighs, “Break you so thoroughly you’ll be out of commission for a few days, as you work tirelessly to put yourself back to rights?”
A barely felt shiver ran through him and his breath left him a little apprehensively, “You promised me you’d never drive like that again.”
She hummed dismissively and turned her full attention to his shifting plates, “I didn’t make any promises about your cock.”
Without ado, Shepard leaned forward and buried her face against his parting plates. Her tongue moved against his sensitive sheath, and she moaned against him while she savored the foreign taste of him. Hands on his thighs, she began to trace the sensitive valleys between his plates up to his waist before gripping him firmly and pressing him back into a reclined position against some low-stacked crates.
“Spirits, Jane!” he groaned, fingers weaving hesitantly through her hair to keep her against him where he wanted her most. He was beginning to evert, and Shepard hummed appreciatively as she sealed her mouth around his growing bulge and lapped at him, she wanted him to find his fullness in her mouth, wanted to sheath him in her throat without his sensitive flesh making contact with the air.
“Jane,” his voice was gravelly, part warning, part want, and she loved it. She directed her gaze up his waist and over his keel to meet his blown-out eyes and challenge him the way he’d challenged her just minutes ago. He swallowed thickly, withdrew his trembling hands from her hair. To protect her from an impulsive literal chokehold should he get lost in the feeling of her, she realized, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Good. Shepard’s delighted smile met her eyes and she moaned against him once more. His response was immediate.
She was intimately aware of just how thick Garrus was, but it hadn't prepared her for the sudden fullness as his cock rapidly everted into her welcoming mouth. He hissed and groaned and turned to trembling putty in her hands.
“Spirits, you feel incredible,” he managed to say as his lust drunk eyes burned the image of her lips stretched around his cock into his memory. It was probably very pretty Shepard thought, the contrast of her pink lips and pale skin against his dark metallic gray-blue cock. The idea had her squirming with renewed interest.
His cock was rapidly increasing volume and Shepard had to work to relax her throat to allow him more room. She lapped at the unique texture of his shaft and danced her fingertips over his waist and basked in the sounds of his unraveling. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t sustain a perfect air-tight seal around his pulsing cock once his girth plugged her ability to breathe. With one hand Shepard took hold of his base, not able to fully surround him, and pulled back for a hasty gasp of air before relaxing her throat and forcing herself back down around him and beginning a wet, choked, and devastating rhythm along his shaft.
Distantly she was aware of talons which bit into the material of the cot as Garrus strained not to touch her and keep her down.
“I don’t-” Garrus struggled to find words- which was a testament to her technique, because the man was often a verbal fountain.
“Jane,” he warned breathlessly, scrambling to find purchase, his taloned toes scraping against the floor.
She could feel the building tension in his muscles as she brought him close, the urgent subconscious thrust of his hips plunging himself deeper into her, and his natural lubricant thickening.
“Jane, you can’t-” he gasped, and he sounded as though he were in pain as he fought with his instincts to pull away from her mouth, “I- don’t want to hurt you,” he panted as she finally relented. Remembering only now about the chances of things like dextro induced anaphylaxis should she ingest.
Slowly, she released him.
Garrus did in fact look wrecked, and it gave her no small amount of satisfaction.
“I’m not done with you,” she said, voice hoarse, as she climbed into his lap and fed the head of his cock between her folds.
“I hope you never will be,” he said, bringing his hands to support her ass and help ease her down his thick pulsing shaft. They both groaned in unison. She took him slowly with the aid of the small thrusts of his hips and the grinding of her own. The stretch was delicious, and Shepard rocked in his lap as he settled plates deep within her. She felt so full.
She sighed happily and rested her forehead against Garrus’ as they enjoyed the connection of their bodies. It was an intimate gesture that had his subvocals roaring.
With a roll of her hips, Shepard started moving languidly, riding Garrus with a slow decisive pace, enjoying the slight slip and press of him against her walls. She squeezed him, earning a growl and redoubling of his grip on her, filed talons flexed against her skin.
“You feel incredible,” Shepard whispered, resting her elbows against his shoulders and sought out the sensitive flesh below his fringe once more.
Garrus shifted beneath her and pressed his hips up into her at a new angle and- there, just there. He must have known he’d done something right because he doubled down and held her hips still as he rocked up into her with deliberation, focusing on rubbing against her insides just so.
“Think you can give me one more?” It was a rhetorical question, but she moaned her assent regardless, already clamping down around his cock as if that could keep him there.
“I want to feel you pulse around me,” he said, face nuzzled into her neck and breathing her in deeply, “want to feel your core quiver with pleasure, hear you cry out my name.”
Shepard felt her whole self go taught, muscles straining, and she struggled for breath, “Garrus,” his name fell from her lips like a prayer. A desperate invocation.
He growled, kept his measured and tortuous pace against that place so deep within her she hadn't known it before him.
“Then I’m going to fill you,” his voice was strained, and he centered himself with another deep pull of air against her neck, “I’m going to mark you so deep, so thoroughly, that you’ll be washing my seed from your womb for days.”
“Fuck,” Jane inhaled the word, nearly choked on it, as she felt her world go sideways in the best of ways, the white-hot coil of building pleasure in her core pulsed, ebbed, then pulsed hotter, stoked into an inevitable inferno by the perfect stroking of Garrus’ cock and words. The magnitude of her orgasm as it crested over her was overpowering. She lost sense of herself, or where she ended, and Garrus started.
“Garrus-” his name was a sob of ecstasy, and she clung to him as though he were the only anchor inside the storm of pure bliss that crashed within her. His teeth lay gently against her neck and between the waves of intense and all-consuming rapture she could feel and hear his victorious growl surround her. She was still clenching around him, a renewed slickness easing their joining, when she became lucid enough to realize Garrus had kept his word. She could feel the violent throb and twitch of his cock within her.
“Jane-” a barely audible obsecration as he pulsed within her; his pace faltered and gave way to an insistent thrust of his hips as he pressed her down against him, reaching deep, deep, within her where his cum gushed and pulsed and seeped, hot and wet against her cervix. The joining was a tangle of pain and pleasure that made her fully collapse against him where she struggled to regain her breath.
After a short time filled with soft touches, kisses, and evening breathing they separated, resulting in their combined release to spill from her and make a slick mess of their thighs.
"Well, isn't that pretty," Garrus said, genuinely sounding that he thought so as he examined their mingled fluids.
Shepard wasn't so sure she'd go so far as to say it was pretty, but also felt no hurry to leave his lap or his arms.
“Would it be too much of a disruption to the crew if you stayed with me tonight?” Jane asked, peppering soft kisses along Garus’s mandibles.
“EDI,” Garrus asked the room.
“Gunnery Officer Vakarian,” EDI responded immediately.
Garrus gave Shepard a withering look that seemed to say, ‘Voyeuristic AI,’ but Shepard just chuckled and rested her head back into the junction of Garrus’ neck and shoulder.
“Is the route from the Battery to the Commander’s Cabin clear?”
“It is,” EDI supplied, “But your discretion towards the crew regarding your relations with the Commander is unnecessary. Most of the Normandy is aware… and happy for, if not jealous of, you both.”
“Thanks, EDI,” he said, sarcastically.
“You’re welcome, Vakarian,” came EDI’s smug reply.
“Well,” he said, shifting Shepard off his lap to riffle through their discarded clothes, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I brake regulations and keep you company this evening.”
He playfully tossed his tunic at her, and Shepard smiled, the ache of knowing she would need to bid Garrus farewell in a couple short days somewhat abated, as hope pooled into her endorphin saturated brain.
“I wonder who’s jealous,” Shepard mused, as she made a meager attempt to clean herself off with the sacrificial garment before they each pulled on their respective clothes and Garrus found an unsoiled tunic.
Garrus huffed with amusement, “Common Shepard, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed Krios’ interest. He hasn’t exactly been subtle.”
She hummed appreciatively as she considered Thane. Maybe, or maybe in a different universe, but for now she was quite satisfied with what she’d found in Garrus.
“What about Tali?” Shepard asked, “I’ve seen the way she sometimes looks at you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Is there something there?”
Garrus’ mandibles fluttered in a smile, “It’s like I said before,” he turned to her, all swagger and good humor, and pulled her close, “Some women find facial scars attractive.”