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Liara pinches her brow, blinking the strain from her sore eyes. She’s fought a splitting headache for hours, but it refuses to be ignored any longer. “Glyph, what time is it?”
The protocol droid glides over and hovers beside her shoulder, pulsing with pale blue light. “It is 19:07:56 Galactic Standard Time, Doctor T’Soni. Would you like to know the local—”
“No, thank you.” Liara rolls her neck, working the worst of the stiffness from her shoulders. Twelve hours. I have been standing here, staring at these screens, for twelve hours without a break.
When she first took over the role of Shadow Broker, the overwhelming flood of information—of power—had thrilled her. All of the Galaxy’s secrets, right at her fingertips! And she was master of them all. It was… is… intoxicating.
But the feeds never stop. There’s always another disaster. She often feels like she’s throwing a bucket of water on a wildfire. The Broker’s resources have taught her that the galaxy is a living, breathing entity. Unlike her, it doesn’t need to eat or sleep.
She’s been resorting to stimulants lately, much to her shame. Some are mild. Others are only borderline legal, in Council Space. Not that Hagalaz has any laws other than her own will. No rules, and only one titled ruler. A smile flutters on Liara’s lips. Aria T’Loak would approve.
Liara yawns. Turns away from the terminal. Drags herself toward the adjoining kitchenette.
Caffeine, this time. Something that won’t prevent sleep entirely later, although her body begs for it now. Shepard would approve of caffeine—and Shepard is the only person in the galaxy whose opinion Liara really cares about anymore.
“Doctor T’Soni,” Glyph trills, following her into the kitchenette. “You have not used your ultraviolet lamp in twenty-six standard hours.”
Liara sighs. Glyph is invaluable, but that doesn’t preclude it from being annoying. Sometimes she feels like it’s judging her, although she knows that’s pure projection.
In academia, lack of sleep and the subjugation of one’s bodily needs in favor of work is seen as almost noble. On the SR-1, it had been necessary. Saren hadn’t waited around for them to show up and foil his evil plot, so she, Shepard, and the rest of the crew always acted preemptively.
Goddess, I miss those days. No matter how exhausted she was, how battered and bruised, she’d been amongst friends who understood. People who respected and cared for her. She’d been with Shepard.
With Shepard at the forefront of her mind, Liara brews a fresh pot of coffee and turns on the UV lamp. She sits down and stares at the prefab walls, trying to shut off her mind. The glow of the feeds flashes behind her eyelids, leaving a ghostly impression when she blinks.
I hope she is safe. I hope she is happy, if only from moment to moment. I hope she misses me as much as I miss her.
That’s it. The real reason she hates leaving her feeds. Rest frees up too much of her mind. When she isn’t working, isn’t busy, isn’t strung out to the point of exhaustion, all she can think about is Shepard.
“Doctor T’Soni—”
“Quiet mode, Glyph.” Liara unclenches her jaw, then adds a softer, “Please.” There’s no need to be rude, even to a protocol droid.
“Entering quiet mode.”
Glyph floats out of the kitchen, leaving Liara alone with her coffee and her thoughts. She almost regrets sending it away. Her fears will be even louder now. Perhaps part of her deserves it. Deserves to suffer for the sin of letting Shepard face untold dangers alone…
I should be with her. But I am needed here. She needs me here.
***
“Welcome, Commander Shepard!”
Shepard grins at the protocol droid. Apparently, Liara has finally taught it how to recognize individuals while she was busy system-hopping. “Hello to you too, little buddy. Where is she?”
The droid’s flaps of hard light flutter and spin around its circular body. It looks almost excited to see her. “Doctor T’Soni is in the kitchen. She has given you full security clearance and administrative access for Hagalaz Station, Commander Shepard.”
Shepard’s brow furrows as she tries to remember where the kitchen is. Most of her time on Hagalaz Station was spent scaling the outside amidst turbulent thunderstorms, crawling through ducts, and shattering the ceiling in the Shadow Broker’s office.
Right. The kitchen is in there.
“Thanks, buddy.” She leaves Glyph at its station by the door, hurrying past the flickering terminals and large, wall-mounted screens. She doesn’t stop to check what’s on them. There’s only one person she wants to see right now.
She finds Liara slumped over in a chair, an empty mug on the table beside her smushed cheek. Liara’s eyes twitch behind their lids, as though she’s dreaming. The sight melts Shepard’s heart. Adorable as it is to catch Liara in the middle of a nap, she can’t just leave her here.
“What am I going to do with you?” Shepard says, bending forward to slide her arm beneath Liara’s knees. She wraps her other arm behind Liara’s back and scoops her up. She’s lighter than Shepard remembers. Not a good sign. She wonders when Liara last sat down and had a proper meal instead of a nutrient bar.
Liara’s lashes flutter. “Shepard?” A sweet, sleepy smile tugs at her lips.
Shepard kisses the top of her head. “A literal genius, and you can’t even figure out where your bed is.”
Liara’s brow furrows. “I…” She yawns, wrinkling her nose.
“You can finish your nap in the bedroom, Miss Smarty Pants.”
The bedroom looks empty, as though it’s hardly been used. A thin layer of dust coats the sparse furniture: a bedframe, a closet door, and a nightstand. The bed is made, but wrinkled. Shepard suspects Liara has been sleeping on top of the covers to save time and effort.
Not tonight. Not while I’m here.
Shepard adjusts Liara’s weight against her chest, freeing the lower part of her arm to flick the covers back. She lays Liara on the bed and tucks her in, ignoring her soft murmurs of protest.
“I should stay awake. You’re here. Tell me about Aratoht.”
Shepard’s heart sinks like a stone. “Later. Maybe I need sleep, too.” She strips off her uniform shirt—Alliance again, thank god, despite her most recent clusterfuck—then shucks her pants and skivvies. Then she climbs in bed next to Liara, wrapping an arm around her waist and cuddling close. The warmth of Liara’s body leeches into hers, banishing some of the chill from her heavy heart.
Whether Liara senses the most recent mission is a sore subject, or whether she’s simply too tired to protest, Shepard can’t be sure. Still, she shifts closer, tucking her crest beneath Shepard’s chin and shifting back into the cradle of her pelvis. Shepard smiles and closes her eyes. This might be the last good sleep she gets in a while, so she should make the most of it.
My last sleep with my Liara…
***
Liara wakes tangled in cold, damp covers, stirring to the sound of panicked gasps. Shepard— Shepard is here! —is sitting on the other side of the bed, knees pulled into her chest, her broad back heaving with unsteady breaths.
“Shepard?” Liara sits up, wrapping a protective arm around Shepard’s shoulders.
Shepard doesn’t respond. Her eyes are screwed shut, the muscles of her jaw bunched. But she leans slightly into Liara’s chest. Liara brushes strands of sweaty hair from Shepard’s temple, murmuring beside her ear. “It’s all right. I’m here.”
It only takes Shepard a few moments to regain control. Liara feels her sigh, feels the tension drain from her body as she uncurls from her protective ball. With a soft groan, Shepard opens her eyes, forcing a smile. “Sorry. I’m okay.”
Liara knows it’s a lie, but she won’t press. She trusts Shepard to tell her in time. It doesn’t surprise her that Shepard has recovered so quickly, either. No time for panic attacks on the battlefield, although the hormonal balancers Cerberus installed certainly help.
“I’m okay,” Shepard insists. The scar across her left eyebrow puckers as her forehead wrinkles.
Liara’s heart clenches. Coming out of a panic, and Shepard is still concerned about her. “None of us are ‘okay’ these days,” she says. “It is ‘okay’ if you are not ‘okay’.”
“I killed three hundred and fifty thousand people,” Shepard blurts out. “Civilians.”
Liara’s eyes widen. “You what?” She claps her mouth shut so fast her teeth click. That was definitely the wrong response.
Shepard sighs deeply, leaning into her.
Liara helps Shepard lie back down, shifting the covers so they’re situated beneath a drier, less sweat-soaked patch. “Would talking about it help?”
“Aratoht went to Hell in a handbasket.”
A corner of Liara’s mind files the peculiar human idiom away for later reference.
“Long story short,” Shepard continues, “a scientist got indoctrinated and tried to bring the Reapers in from dark space. It was blow up the relay, or mass extinction before lunch.”
Sympathy pierces Liara’s heart. An impossible choice… the kind the galaxy is always forcing Shepard to make, leaving her to shoulder the full weight of the consequences alone.
Not alone. Not while I am here. Liara pulls Shepard’s head onto her chest, stroking her hair. “You made the only choice you could.”
“Killing innocent people is never the correct choice,” Shepard mumbles into Liara’s shoulder.
“Neither was standing by and letting the Reapers come before the galaxy is even slightly prepared…” Liara’s voice trails off. Somehow, she senses that words aren’t what Shepard needs. She strokes soothing circles on Shepard’s back, feeling the landscape of scars beneath her palm. Most are streaky exit wounds from projectiles. Others are neater surgery scars. All are familiar. She’s relieved not to feel any new ones this time.
Shepard accepts the wordless comfort, but her body remains tense in Liara’s arms, unwilling to release the burden of her guilt.
Tentatively, Liara reaches out through the skin contact, allowing her consciousness to brush Shepard’s.
Normally, Shepard welcomes her presence. The walls of her mind melt at the first touch of thought. This time, Liara’s inquiry is met with steely resistance.
You don’t want to see this, Shepard thinks, her mind-voice tinny and faint due to her efforts to keep Liara at a distance.
Liara knows she could push, but that will never do. Shepard must make the choice. Then let me guide your thoughts elsewhere. You deserve a reprieve.
I don’t—
The guilt will be there in the morning. I know you need to feel it, to feel the weight of their deaths, even though you made the only choice you could. To brush it aside means they did not matter, and every soul matters to you. But let me take you away from it for a little while. Take your burden up again after you’ve rested.
Shepard relaxes, body and mind. Her walls crumble, and Liara deepens the meld, careful not to tread near the open wounds of Shepard’s soul. The current of guilt and grief is so large it almost sweeps her away, but Liara seizes control, pulling Shepard’s mind to a different place.
I missed you.
She shows Shepard a memory. A small, lighthearted one.
“Glyph, show me Commander Shepard.”
“Yes, Doctor T’Soni.”
Glyph projects a full-sized version of Commander Shepard, dressed in Alliance blues, saluting some invisible force.
“Adjust for a less rigid posture.”
The image changes. Shepard now has three arms: one saluting, two at her sides.
Liara bursts out laughing. Sometimes, artificial intelligences aren’t so intelligent after all.
The real Shepard laughs in the present, her nose buried in the crook of Liara’s shoulder. Her breath tickles Liara’s neck. Liara joins in, finding the new thread of amusement in Shepard’s heart and tugging it toward other positive emotions: happiness, love.
I missed you too, Liara.
Shepard kisses her, a surprisingly warm and enthusiastic kiss for a woman trapped beneath the weight of such heavy grief. It’s still there, a dark bloodstain shadowing her soul, but light and life shine beneath.
Liara kisses back. When Shepard rolls on top of her, sliding a knee between her thighs, she lifts her hips on instinct.
Soon, the heat of desire pushes everything else away. They move as one, rocking together, kissing deeply. Shepard’s mouth blazes a trail down Liara’s neck to nip her collarbone. Liara’s fingers tangle in Shepard’s hair, tightening as the flat of Shepard’s tongue sweeps over her pulse point.
Missed you.
Need you.
Please—
Shepard’s touch is shaking, clawing, a bit too rough, but Liara needs it all. She drags her nails between Shepard’s shoulders, then grips the tight muscles of her ass, urging her to grind faster. It isn’t slow, sweet post-sleep sex. It’s sloppy and desperate. It’s proof they’re alive, here, together.
Shepard rolls Liara onto her stomach, pinning her wrists to the mattress. Liara lifts her ass, gasping as Shepard’s wetness and heat smears against her skin. She senses what Shepard wants. She sends a flash of thought in return: the nightstand.
Feeling Shepard’s weight lift and her skin pull away is disconcerting, but Liara bears the discomfort while Shepard rummages through the nightstand drawer.
I love that you have this waiting for me.
Another flicker of happiness. A candle glowing in the dark. The galaxy is on the edge of destruction, but Liara has purchased Shepard an extra strap to keep on Hagalaz. For some ridiculous reason, that matters. Amidst everything else, the gesture is important.
Shepard groans, a needy, unhinged noise of animal desire. Liara is tempted to glance over her shoulder and watch Shepard put it on, but then Shepard’s hard body covers hers again, and the firmness of Shepard’s new cock rubs against her ass. Her core flutters, pulsing at the mere idea of being stretched. Filled. By Shepard and only Shepard.
***
Shepard’s need is too strong for a slow, thoughtful union. Desire pounds through her heart, her blood, her cock. She longs to feel Liara wrapped around her; all soft, tight heat, pulling her deeper. So much of the galaxy is broken, but this little slice of paradise is all hers. Ours.
Liara shivers beneath her, responding to the shared thought. Inside, now.
Shepard releases one of Liara’s wrists, testing the waters. Her azure is slick and swollen. The ridge of her clit twitches beneath the pads of Shepard’s fingers. She toys with it a moment, enjoying the way Liara gasps, before grasping the base of the strap and lining herself up.
Thank fucking god for whoever invented sensation transmitters for strap-ons. She feels every ripple and pulse of Liara’s walls as she pushes inside, and through the meld, she feels the pleasant burn of being stretched. Not a sensation she often prefers for herself, but experiencing how Liara feels it is different. Knowing she’s the cause makes it so much better.
The meld tells her the moment Liara is ready for more. Shepard slides all the way in and sets a slow, forceful pace, pounding Liara face-first into the mattress. The rhythm is almost automatic, leaving her free to let go. To luxuriate in each starburst of sensation coursing back and forth between their bodies.
So fucking tight—
—So full…
…harder! More!
It’s a quick build-up, but that’s exactly what Shepard needs—what they both need. To connect. To love each other. To become one, the only being in a galaxy of their own making, where only they matter. Shepard smears kisses across Liara’s shoulders as Liara fists the sheets, twisting them in bunched fists.
Love you…
…love you, too.
Pressure throbs along the strap. Shepard sucks a hissing breath through her teeth. She bites the sensitive ridges along Liara’s neck, shuddering as the sensation sends electricity through Liara’s skin and into hers. The smell of Liara’s lotion, tinged with the growing scent of sex, fills her nose. She breathes in deep, trying to memorize it. To keep it for later, when she needs a good memory.
Liara lifts her head, pushing up from the mattress and arching her smile. Shepard feels the happy tears that well in Liara’s eyes. The sweat running down her back. The pounding of her heart and the burn of quick, sharp breaths in her lungs. It soothes her to know Liara needs this just as much as she does; to know it because she’s experiencing it, too.
Shepard sends back everything she can, all the wonderful sensations sweeping through her own body. The aching fullness in her cock; the hot, tight squeeze of Liara’s walls; the joy she feels as their skin slides together. Liara’s skin is so fucking soft, even with the growing number of scars.
Come with me. In me.
The statement sends a hot stab of want through both of their bodies, as well as their shared heart. Shepard sees no reason to deny them. This doesn’t have to be it. There’s time for rounds two, three, and four before she returns to Earth to face the music.
Face the—what?
Shepard smiles into Liara’s shoulder, then bites it briefly, relishing the way Liara melts beneath her. Later. She speeds up her thrusts, driving as deep as possible every time, panting at the way Liara clenches around her cock. Being inside her really is heaven, and coming inside her is even better.
Please, I want—
—we need…
…Yes!
They find their peak together, in the space of the same heartbeat. Shepard freezes for a moment, shuddering as the fullness pounding along her length releases in a rush of heat. Liara pulses around her, squeezing impossibly tight. Shepard slips her hand back between Liara’s legs, rubbing her clit to push them higher. Her own clit twitches against the transmitter. Her thrusts become uneven, but each one sends another pang of pleasure through her core, and through Liara beneath her.
It’s a long release for such a hard, fast climb. By the time it tapers off, Shepard is wrung out. She can only collapse on top of Liara, unable to bear her weight while she catches her breath. Luckily, Liara doesn’t mind. Shepard senses contentment, even a touch of smugness. She knows what’s about to happen before Liara gives another deliberate squeeze around her, but she still isn’t prepared. She grunts, jerking her hips as Liara’s soft walls massage the still-sensitive shaft.
Mean.
Just making sure you’re finished.
Shepard exhales, rolling her head sideways to flop on Liara’s pillow. For the next couple of minutes, yeah.
Distantly, she’s aware that her situation hasn’t changed. All of her problems are still there, waiting for her outside this room. But she doesn’t have to face them alone. Her mind knows that, but now her heart believes it. Now her body remembers it too, through the shared language of touch. Liara will always be with her, in some sense. Liara will always fight for her.
I will. I promise.
The meld tapers off, but Shepard keeps the warm, comforting feeling of love with her as the boundaries of her soul solidify, leaving her an individual person again. She still doesn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it, but for now, she doesn’t need to. She pulls out, giving Liara’s temple a kiss of apology at the departure, and rolls onto the mattress beside her.
They reach out their arms at the same time, encircling each other, cleaving close. Though their minds are separate, their bodies remain a single puddle of pleasurable exhaustion in the middle of the bed.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Liara asks after a while.
Shepard smirks.
“Besides that.”
“Bacon and pancakes.”
Liara smiles, closing her eyes and resting her head on Shepard’s shoulder. “I believe I can manage that.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m cooking.”
“No,” Liara says. “I insist.”
Shepardplants a kiss on top of her crest. “Together?”
“All right. Together.”