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[Mass Effect] "Mission Debrief: Endgame" - Male!Shepard/Aria
Summary: The Collectors are gone, but Shepard has little time to rest - just enough for one last stop at Omega.
Length: 3300 words
Rating: M
Notes: Fourth and final part in a series.
He comes into her booth with a grin that's so wide she thinks the top of his head might fall off any moment. Stomps up past the mercs, bends down and kisses her right in front of all the guards, filling her mouth with the taste of metal and cheap booze.
She throws him across the room, denting the wall on the other side and, quite coincidentally, crushing one of the Shadow Broker's hidden cameras in the process.
"You're drunk."
He is still grinning when he sits up, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I am awesome," he corrects her. Pauses, looks around at the astounded mercs. "Awesome!" he repeats, throwing his arms wide.
As they stare, he begins to laugh. Aria shakes her head. It may be against better knowing, but she just has to know.
"I'll handle it," she says to the nearest merc. "Go make sure his crew don't wreck the place."
It takes them longer than usual to clear out. Half of them staring at her, half of them at Shepard. She can't even tell how much of a hit her reputation has taken when she allows some fucker to waltz up and kiss her right in the middle of the Afterlife, allows him to live after that, and she knows she should be pissed - should have killed him for that stunt, because it's not doing either of them any favours.
However, Shepard has just emerged from the Omega IV relay - granted, on a crippled mess of a ship, but alive.
The first man through the relay, and he's here, in her club, leaning against the wall she dented with his head, laughing.
"Get up."
He holds out his hand. After some consideration, she grabs it and yanks him upright, ignoring the way it makes him wince.
"Talk."
He stands in front of her, leaning down so he can look her in the eyes. She tenses up, fists clenching, but he does no more than look.
"Did you see where I just came from?"
He straightens up and walks up to the window, looks down at the floor below. It's noisier than usual, but not 'fight about to break out' noisy; just the regular sounds turned up a few degrees.
"Did you forget who you are talking to?" she counters. He spins around and grins.
"Nope! Just making conversation."
"Make it faster." She prods his chest with a finger. He yields surprisingly easily and stumbles back, hits the couch and falls on his ass, bouncing up and down for a few moments.
Then he sighs, face falling. "I've given order to send you a copy of the ship's footage and my helm cam as soon as the repairs are done. I want this shit [i]everywhere[/i]."
She almost begins to speak, but halts the sound before it can emerge. Instead, she waits.
Shepard spreads his arms, rests them on the back of the couch. It must feel familiar to him by now, she thinks, and doesn't quite know what to make of that.
"The Collectors are gone. Found the base on the other side and blew it to radioactive scrap. But they were just pawns. The Reapers are still on their way, and all hell is going to break loose when they arrive. Don't know when it'll happen, don't know how. Maybe we stopped them long enough. Maybe we'll have thousands of years to get ready. Maybe they can get here by next week." He pounds his fist on the upholstering. "I don't know."
Aria still remains silent. She does not have any evidence for or against the existence of these machines, but she does know that Shepard believes they exist, and while that is not a guarantee, it is, without doubt, cause enough for concern.
"Do you have a plan?"
He stares blankly at her.
She waits. And eventually he turns away.
"I only have one lead. Can't even talk about it. It's where I'm heading when the ship's repaired."
"Not even a hint?"
He shakes his head. "I've already said too much." His tone is wry, and he chuckles dryly. "Don't really think it matters, though. Not as if anyone ever believes a word I say."
His expression turns bitter. And Aria thinks. So long since she had a need to say something more sensitive than fuck you or do as I say. But she can't say she believes him. That wouldn't do them any favours either, and she still isn't sure if it would be true.
"I'll put the repairs on your tab," she says instead, after waiting just a little too long.
He nods, a small smile on his lips. "I appreciate it," he says, his voice so soft it barely carries over the music.
It takes only a few moments for the silence to become awkward. He shifts where he sits; she stares out across the room below, across the swaying bodies of a hundred individuals from half a dozen different races.
"Once we get going," Shepard says eventually, "it's going to be a while before we come back. Blowing the base won't stop Cerberus combing the place for any remains they can get their hands on. There's going to be traffic through the O4 relay pretty soon, and it won't be healthy for me to stick around."
"Pity," she says, and perhaps slightly to her surprise, she means it.
He smiles wistfully.
"Yeah."
The silence lasts as long this time, but feels inexplicably more comfortable, like there's nothing left that needs to be said.
Aria thinks she's fine with that. And once she feels certain that he has nothing to add, she puts one foot up on the couch, leans down with her arms folded over her thigh.
"One for the road?"
He shakes his head; grins. "Don't think I should drink any more. Makin' all sorts of bad decisions already."
She rolls her eyes. Doesn't bother to say anything. His grin widens. "Yeah, I know. Gotta warn you, though. I look pretty bad under here."
"Seen worse." If he is still moving, she has seen worse. "Probably fucked worse."
He laughs, softly. Believes her.
She eases his jacket open. He wears white underneath, stained wet and reddish in places - must have opened a few wounds when he hit the wall. She can't feel any regret, he deserved that, but she can be careful.
White under his shirt, too. Both hardened medigel and bandages, applied by someone who knows their craft; barely disturbed even after his... little flight. What skin shows between them is bruised and scraped, and the blood she saw comes from those scrapes, not any more serious wounds.
"This will hurt."
She brushes her fingers over the largest bandage, around his lower ribs. Something hit him hard here, on the left side, probably taking out a chunk of bone in the process. She almost winces.
She has seen worse, but probably not fucked worse. But Shepard doesn't seem to react.
"Yeah," he says, and takes her wrist, presses her hand harder against the bandages. "Gonna have to let you do most of the work."
"Excuses." She doesn't bother to take the shirt off him; leaves it hanging open. Starts to work on his belt instead.
His legs are in better shape, but not by much. The material in his trousers catches on the bandages, and it takes some work to get them off.
Meanwhile, Shepard rids himself of the shirt. His right arm seems miraculously unharmed, but the left is bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the skin above is yellow and purple, darker in places than even Aria's own.
"You are difficult to kill," she remarks.
He grins. "Took you this long to figure out?"
She could say something about a different frame of reference, but it's not worth debating. "Simply noting for future reference," she says instead, and he laughs.
Up to him what he makes of it, she thinks. Bends down and licks his right nipple - the only one she can get to; the other is hidden behind the bandages covering most of his chest. It tastes faintly of metal, of human blood. He hums and strokes her scalp. She notices a slight unsteadiness in his fingers as he traces her fringe, a tremor that wasn't there before. A weakness.
How human is he still, she wonders - and how human will he be when this has... the word is not 'healed'; perhaps 'been mended'? She can't know. If she sees him again, how much of this flesh will have been replaced with visible cybernetics? What she feels is not concern - it makes sense to replace what is broken. But it does make her curious.
"Everything intact here?" she asks, cupping his groin with one hand.
"Think so. Told 'em to warn me if they cut off anything important." Something stirs under her palm - stirs and grows. She smirks. Definitely seems intact. And Shepard grins, too. "Probably going to need a visual," he adds.
She snorts, but eases a hand in below his underwear and pulls his cock out, semi-hard and much the way she remembers it. She tightens her grasp and strokes, slowly and relatively gently, and feels the blood rushing under her palm as he stiffens and quickly grows fully erect.
Shepard groans, hand weighing down on her head a little harder for a moment. Then he lets go. "Get your blue butt up here. I still got a fully functional tongue." A slight pause, and he adds: "And you taste better than the rotgut I've been drinking."
That gets another snort out of her. Not certain if it's a compliment or insult, but not really caring either way, she lets go of his cock and begins to strip. Nothing fancy this time, just slipping out of her jacket and the tight-fitting black stretch fibre underneath. Shepard winces as he gets rid of the last of his own gear as well, but she pretends not to notice.
He eases himself down on his back, slowly, still wincing, and she looks out over the club below, the dancers, the drinkers, the watchers. A party is gathered at one of the far tables, a big krogan, several humans. An asari - she recognizes the justicar. Perhaps the rumours about revelry were true after all, Aria ponders, but forgets about it when Shepard reaches out and wraps his hand around her leg. His palm is warm and dry, and his fingers still somewhat unsteady.
He begins to stroke her inner thigh as she looks down. It would usually have been too gentle for her tastes, but is still a pleasant sensation, his skin rough, hers soft and sensitive. Their eyes meet, and his fingers rise to stroke her sex, one finger on each outer lip. Then, she feels a third between them, and it glides easily on already slick flesh. Too talented for his own good, she thinks, and the finger sinks into her, feeling unusually large.
"Get down here," he says, and begins to pull her towards him, using that finger inside her.
She follows. She wants this as much as he does.
The couch is cramped, not deep enough for Shepard's bulk, but she manages to sink down over him with her left knee next to his head and her right foot on the floor, low enough that she can feel his warm breath against her cunt.
"Gonna miss this sight," he mutters, perhaps not meant for her ears. And again, she pretends not to notice. Leans down, elbow on his left hip, where there are no bandages, and takes hold of his cock again.
He reaches up and grasps her around the waist, pulls her down further, and she wraps her lips around his cock just as she feels the first touch of his tongue against her own sex. Carefully, as though he's afraid he'll break her, he begins to stroke, and she lets out a small noise of discontent.
"If you are leaving, make this worth remembering," she says, and bites down on his shaft, not hard enough to do damage, but certainly enough to be felt. He grunts in return, fingers tightening around her, and retaliates, sucks one rich purple labia in between his teeth and tugs at her. She feels light-headed for a moment, purrs deep in her throat and begins to suck him in earnest, lips and tongue dancing over his cock.
His hands tighten on her hips, and now she can't feel any unsteadiness in his touch. Not even a hint of weakness as he pulls her down towards his roughly stroking tongue.
She draws a sharp breath around his cock as he captures her clit and works his jaw against her, rolls it between his teeth. Shudders, her boot scraping on the floor, when he releases her again. Her own grasp tightens as well, around the root of his shaft and his balls, and she grows careless, scraping him with her teeth as she bobs her head, but it only seems to egg him on. His hands slide roughly down her hips and settle on her ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh there, thumbs sliding down to the backs of her thighs and up again.
She almost forgets what she is supposed to be doing. Dives deeper, fitting half his length in her mouth and throat and hums deeply, and Shepard groans in response, hips rising towards her, hands tightening. She pauses until he relaxes. Purrs as he begins to suck her clit again, and writhes where she lies as she feels his thumbs sliding in towards her cunt and spreading her open. He probes her entrance with his tongue before replacing it with one thick finger and slides easily inside her, his lips returning to the erect bud of her clit.
She frowns when he pulls back out. Then yelps when he pushes again, in a different place. Moans around his throbbing cock, eyes rolling back as the thick finger sinks past the first knuckle into her ass, lubricated by her own slick. Almost comes as he begins to pump slowly back and forth, as she feels her muscles clenching down on the intrusion, her flesh being pulled back and forth with his movements.
Does come when he bites her clit again, harder this time, sucking noisily at her. Arches her back, the tip of his cock sliding down her chin as she rises, fingers and toes curling, her entire body trembling with ecstasy.
He chuckles as she settles back down, pulling his finger out and giving her ass a light smack.
"Definitely gonna miss this sight," he says, and this time there's no doubt that he means for her to hear.
"Don't get sentimental. I hate sentimental." She winces and pulls herself up, stands and turns; looks down at Shepard's prone form. The bandages across his chest are stained dark with sweat and her fluids. Pretty sexy, she thinks.
"Distract me," he challenges her, reaching out and stroking her thigh.
She swings her right leg over him. It was easier to fit the other way around, but he shuffles to the side, allows her to fit her knee between his hip and the back of the couch, steadying herself with her left foot on the floor. She grabs his cock and steers it up against her cunt, and drops, ass and thighs smacking against his hips.
He groans, features twisting into a pained grimace, but his hand land hard on her hips and his fingers dig in, pulling her harder down against him.
He's strong, even now, and her movements are limited, but she manages a slight rocking motion, shifting his hard shaft inside her and working her muscles around it. He rewards her with another groan, not quite as pained, and begins to help her slide back and forth.
Friction, inside and outside. The hot, liquid sensation of his cock displacing her flesh as she sinks herself on it to the hilt, taking it deep within her body, mingles with the electric, frizzy sensation of her clit grinding against his body. The thick, coarse hair growing over his sex only adds to it, making it almost too intense to bear. It's particularly noticeable like this, with the sliding, grinding kind of fuck. She still prefers it harder, rougher, but with a human, this isn't bad at all.
Most humans wouldn't have the kind of hands Shepard does, though - wouldn't have fingers capable of grasping her so hard. She likes that grip, pulling her hard against his body, pushing her back and then dragging her back up again, strong enough that she wouldn't even have to move on her own. His thumbs lie inside her hipbones, pressing down into her belly when he pushes her back; his other fingers curl around her ass and dig hard into her flesh when he pulls her up again.
Groaning, her boot sliding on the floor, her leg unsteady, she runs her hands up from her thighs, over her stomach and chest, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Hard, pulling and twisting, then releasing, sending the twin mounds bouncing with more than just the motions of her hips.
He grunts, hands tightening even further, moving faster, grinding her hard against his hips, as though he thinks he can somehow penetrate even deeper into her then he already is. His cock twitches and throbs, hard and thick and slippery with her slick and his precome. She can tell by the way the breath hisses between his teeth that he's close - as if the throbbing of his cock inside her and the tightening of his balls underneath wasn't enough - and feels her own climax building as well. Tries to relax her inner muscles, draw it out, keep him from coming long enough to let her get off first, or at least at the same time, but it's out of her control now, her hips thrusting, her cunt working his shaft all over and there's not much she can do to stop them.
So she keeps doing what she was doing, hands squeezing her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples, dark and hard as she plucks at them, and surrenders herself to the sensation of rising and sinking tension from the pit of her stomach, down through her legs, up her torso, bright and strong around her spine, then out through her arms and up into her head, until the sensation glows through her entire body.
In the end, it is enough.
Shepard groans underneath her, fingers tight on her hips and ass, and she feels him twitch inside her, once; then again, and again, and again, each of them riding the sensation of the other's orgasm, her clenching cunt, his throbbing cock, until neither of them has the energy to go on. She lands face first on his bandaged chest, panting, and feels her body rise and fall as he pants as well, chest heaving. His grasp has loosened, and the spots where his fingers dug into her ass ache - she would bruise, if her skin weren't already blue.
"Fuck," Shepard hisses between gasps, "that was good."
"Acceptable," she retorts, searching for strength to pull herself off him and stand up, but finding nothing. Not even enough to slap his hands away when he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. He shouldn't, she thinks, and she shouldn't let him, but maybe it won't be so bad - just once, and just for a little while.
Length: 3300 words
Rating: M
Notes: Fourth and final part in a series.
From: A (queen@omega.gov)
Sent: ERROR 23748 [date corrupted], ERROR 23749 [timestamp corrupted]
To: Shepard 2, Reapers 0 (myfavouritestore@sr2.normandy.edi.ext)
Subject: Re: Fuck yeah!
Not reading this.
Next time, fix your comm FIRST, message SECOND.
> I w#n. H#lf the ship's sy#t#ms #re fuck#d,
> bu# I win. Don#t know #f yo#'ll get th#s, but### you do, w#'re c#ming in as fa#t as it'll
> carr# us# H#pe you got p##nty #f b#oze.
He comes into her booth with a grin that's so wide she thinks the top of his head might fall off any moment. Stomps up past the mercs, bends down and kisses her right in front of all the guards, filling her mouth with the taste of metal and cheap booze.
She throws him across the room, denting the wall on the other side and, quite coincidentally, crushing one of the Shadow Broker's hidden cameras in the process.
"You're drunk."
He is still grinning when he sits up, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I am awesome," he corrects her. Pauses, looks around at the astounded mercs. "Awesome!" he repeats, throwing his arms wide.
As they stare, he begins to laugh. Aria shakes her head. It may be against better knowing, but she just has to know.
"I'll handle it," she says to the nearest merc. "Go make sure his crew don't wreck the place."
It takes them longer than usual to clear out. Half of them staring at her, half of them at Shepard. She can't even tell how much of a hit her reputation has taken when she allows some fucker to waltz up and kiss her right in the middle of the Afterlife, allows him to live after that, and she knows she should be pissed - should have killed him for that stunt, because it's not doing either of them any favours.
However, Shepard has just emerged from the Omega IV relay - granted, on a crippled mess of a ship, but alive.
The first man through the relay, and he's here, in her club, leaning against the wall she dented with his head, laughing.
"Get up."
He holds out his hand. After some consideration, she grabs it and yanks him upright, ignoring the way it makes him wince.
"Talk."
He stands in front of her, leaning down so he can look her in the eyes. She tenses up, fists clenching, but he does no more than look.
"Did you see where I just came from?"
He straightens up and walks up to the window, looks down at the floor below. It's noisier than usual, but not 'fight about to break out' noisy; just the regular sounds turned up a few degrees.
"Did you forget who you are talking to?" she counters. He spins around and grins.
"Nope! Just making conversation."
"Make it faster." She prods his chest with a finger. He yields surprisingly easily and stumbles back, hits the couch and falls on his ass, bouncing up and down for a few moments.
Then he sighs, face falling. "I've given order to send you a copy of the ship's footage and my helm cam as soon as the repairs are done. I want this shit [i]everywhere[/i]."
She almost begins to speak, but halts the sound before it can emerge. Instead, she waits.
Shepard spreads his arms, rests them on the back of the couch. It must feel familiar to him by now, she thinks, and doesn't quite know what to make of that.
"The Collectors are gone. Found the base on the other side and blew it to radioactive scrap. But they were just pawns. The Reapers are still on their way, and all hell is going to break loose when they arrive. Don't know when it'll happen, don't know how. Maybe we stopped them long enough. Maybe we'll have thousands of years to get ready. Maybe they can get here by next week." He pounds his fist on the upholstering. "I don't know."
Aria still remains silent. She does not have any evidence for or against the existence of these machines, but she does know that Shepard believes they exist, and while that is not a guarantee, it is, without doubt, cause enough for concern.
"Do you have a plan?"
He stares blankly at her.
She waits. And eventually he turns away.
"I only have one lead. Can't even talk about it. It's where I'm heading when the ship's repaired."
"Not even a hint?"
He shakes his head. "I've already said too much." His tone is wry, and he chuckles dryly. "Don't really think it matters, though. Not as if anyone ever believes a word I say."
His expression turns bitter. And Aria thinks. So long since she had a need to say something more sensitive than fuck you or do as I say. But she can't say she believes him. That wouldn't do them any favours either, and she still isn't sure if it would be true.
"I'll put the repairs on your tab," she says instead, after waiting just a little too long.
He nods, a small smile on his lips. "I appreciate it," he says, his voice so soft it barely carries over the music.
It takes only a few moments for the silence to become awkward. He shifts where he sits; she stares out across the room below, across the swaying bodies of a hundred individuals from half a dozen different races.
"Once we get going," Shepard says eventually, "it's going to be a while before we come back. Blowing the base won't stop Cerberus combing the place for any remains they can get their hands on. There's going to be traffic through the O4 relay pretty soon, and it won't be healthy for me to stick around."
"Pity," she says, and perhaps slightly to her surprise, she means it.
He smiles wistfully.
"Yeah."
The silence lasts as long this time, but feels inexplicably more comfortable, like there's nothing left that needs to be said.
Aria thinks she's fine with that. And once she feels certain that he has nothing to add, she puts one foot up on the couch, leans down with her arms folded over her thigh.
"One for the road?"
He shakes his head; grins. "Don't think I should drink any more. Makin' all sorts of bad decisions already."
She rolls her eyes. Doesn't bother to say anything. His grin widens. "Yeah, I know. Gotta warn you, though. I look pretty bad under here."
"Seen worse." If he is still moving, she has seen worse. "Probably fucked worse."
He laughs, softly. Believes her.
She eases his jacket open. He wears white underneath, stained wet and reddish in places - must have opened a few wounds when he hit the wall. She can't feel any regret, he deserved that, but she can be careful.
White under his shirt, too. Both hardened medigel and bandages, applied by someone who knows their craft; barely disturbed even after his... little flight. What skin shows between them is bruised and scraped, and the blood she saw comes from those scrapes, not any more serious wounds.
"This will hurt."
She brushes her fingers over the largest bandage, around his lower ribs. Something hit him hard here, on the left side, probably taking out a chunk of bone in the process. She almost winces.
She has seen worse, but probably not fucked worse. But Shepard doesn't seem to react.
"Yeah," he says, and takes her wrist, presses her hand harder against the bandages. "Gonna have to let you do most of the work."
"Excuses." She doesn't bother to take the shirt off him; leaves it hanging open. Starts to work on his belt instead.
His legs are in better shape, but not by much. The material in his trousers catches on the bandages, and it takes some work to get them off.
Meanwhile, Shepard rids himself of the shirt. His right arm seems miraculously unharmed, but the left is bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the skin above is yellow and purple, darker in places than even Aria's own.
"You are difficult to kill," she remarks.
He grins. "Took you this long to figure out?"
She could say something about a different frame of reference, but it's not worth debating. "Simply noting for future reference," she says instead, and he laughs.
Up to him what he makes of it, she thinks. Bends down and licks his right nipple - the only one she can get to; the other is hidden behind the bandages covering most of his chest. It tastes faintly of metal, of human blood. He hums and strokes her scalp. She notices a slight unsteadiness in his fingers as he traces her fringe, a tremor that wasn't there before. A weakness.
How human is he still, she wonders - and how human will he be when this has... the word is not 'healed'; perhaps 'been mended'? She can't know. If she sees him again, how much of this flesh will have been replaced with visible cybernetics? What she feels is not concern - it makes sense to replace what is broken. But it does make her curious.
"Everything intact here?" she asks, cupping his groin with one hand.
"Think so. Told 'em to warn me if they cut off anything important." Something stirs under her palm - stirs and grows. She smirks. Definitely seems intact. And Shepard grins, too. "Probably going to need a visual," he adds.
She snorts, but eases a hand in below his underwear and pulls his cock out, semi-hard and much the way she remembers it. She tightens her grasp and strokes, slowly and relatively gently, and feels the blood rushing under her palm as he stiffens and quickly grows fully erect.
Shepard groans, hand weighing down on her head a little harder for a moment. Then he lets go. "Get your blue butt up here. I still got a fully functional tongue." A slight pause, and he adds: "And you taste better than the rotgut I've been drinking."
That gets another snort out of her. Not certain if it's a compliment or insult, but not really caring either way, she lets go of his cock and begins to strip. Nothing fancy this time, just slipping out of her jacket and the tight-fitting black stretch fibre underneath. Shepard winces as he gets rid of the last of his own gear as well, but she pretends not to notice.
He eases himself down on his back, slowly, still wincing, and she looks out over the club below, the dancers, the drinkers, the watchers. A party is gathered at one of the far tables, a big krogan, several humans. An asari - she recognizes the justicar. Perhaps the rumours about revelry were true after all, Aria ponders, but forgets about it when Shepard reaches out and wraps his hand around her leg. His palm is warm and dry, and his fingers still somewhat unsteady.
He begins to stroke her inner thigh as she looks down. It would usually have been too gentle for her tastes, but is still a pleasant sensation, his skin rough, hers soft and sensitive. Their eyes meet, and his fingers rise to stroke her sex, one finger on each outer lip. Then, she feels a third between them, and it glides easily on already slick flesh. Too talented for his own good, she thinks, and the finger sinks into her, feeling unusually large.
"Get down here," he says, and begins to pull her towards him, using that finger inside her.
She follows. She wants this as much as he does.
The couch is cramped, not deep enough for Shepard's bulk, but she manages to sink down over him with her left knee next to his head and her right foot on the floor, low enough that she can feel his warm breath against her cunt.
"Gonna miss this sight," he mutters, perhaps not meant for her ears. And again, she pretends not to notice. Leans down, elbow on his left hip, where there are no bandages, and takes hold of his cock again.
He reaches up and grasps her around the waist, pulls her down further, and she wraps her lips around his cock just as she feels the first touch of his tongue against her own sex. Carefully, as though he's afraid he'll break her, he begins to stroke, and she lets out a small noise of discontent.
"If you are leaving, make this worth remembering," she says, and bites down on his shaft, not hard enough to do damage, but certainly enough to be felt. He grunts in return, fingers tightening around her, and retaliates, sucks one rich purple labia in between his teeth and tugs at her. She feels light-headed for a moment, purrs deep in her throat and begins to suck him in earnest, lips and tongue dancing over his cock.
His hands tighten on her hips, and now she can't feel any unsteadiness in his touch. Not even a hint of weakness as he pulls her down towards his roughly stroking tongue.
She draws a sharp breath around his cock as he captures her clit and works his jaw against her, rolls it between his teeth. Shudders, her boot scraping on the floor, when he releases her again. Her own grasp tightens as well, around the root of his shaft and his balls, and she grows careless, scraping him with her teeth as she bobs her head, but it only seems to egg him on. His hands slide roughly down her hips and settle on her ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh there, thumbs sliding down to the backs of her thighs and up again.
She almost forgets what she is supposed to be doing. Dives deeper, fitting half his length in her mouth and throat and hums deeply, and Shepard groans in response, hips rising towards her, hands tightening. She pauses until he relaxes. Purrs as he begins to suck her clit again, and writhes where she lies as she feels his thumbs sliding in towards her cunt and spreading her open. He probes her entrance with his tongue before replacing it with one thick finger and slides easily inside her, his lips returning to the erect bud of her clit.
She frowns when he pulls back out. Then yelps when he pushes again, in a different place. Moans around his throbbing cock, eyes rolling back as the thick finger sinks past the first knuckle into her ass, lubricated by her own slick. Almost comes as he begins to pump slowly back and forth, as she feels her muscles clenching down on the intrusion, her flesh being pulled back and forth with his movements.
Does come when he bites her clit again, harder this time, sucking noisily at her. Arches her back, the tip of his cock sliding down her chin as she rises, fingers and toes curling, her entire body trembling with ecstasy.
He chuckles as she settles back down, pulling his finger out and giving her ass a light smack.
"Definitely gonna miss this sight," he says, and this time there's no doubt that he means for her to hear.
"Don't get sentimental. I hate sentimental." She winces and pulls herself up, stands and turns; looks down at Shepard's prone form. The bandages across his chest are stained dark with sweat and her fluids. Pretty sexy, she thinks.
"Distract me," he challenges her, reaching out and stroking her thigh.
She swings her right leg over him. It was easier to fit the other way around, but he shuffles to the side, allows her to fit her knee between his hip and the back of the couch, steadying herself with her left foot on the floor. She grabs his cock and steers it up against her cunt, and drops, ass and thighs smacking against his hips.
He groans, features twisting into a pained grimace, but his hand land hard on her hips and his fingers dig in, pulling her harder down against him.
He's strong, even now, and her movements are limited, but she manages a slight rocking motion, shifting his hard shaft inside her and working her muscles around it. He rewards her with another groan, not quite as pained, and begins to help her slide back and forth.
Friction, inside and outside. The hot, liquid sensation of his cock displacing her flesh as she sinks herself on it to the hilt, taking it deep within her body, mingles with the electric, frizzy sensation of her clit grinding against his body. The thick, coarse hair growing over his sex only adds to it, making it almost too intense to bear. It's particularly noticeable like this, with the sliding, grinding kind of fuck. She still prefers it harder, rougher, but with a human, this isn't bad at all.
Most humans wouldn't have the kind of hands Shepard does, though - wouldn't have fingers capable of grasping her so hard. She likes that grip, pulling her hard against his body, pushing her back and then dragging her back up again, strong enough that she wouldn't even have to move on her own. His thumbs lie inside her hipbones, pressing down into her belly when he pushes her back; his other fingers curl around her ass and dig hard into her flesh when he pulls her up again.
Groaning, her boot sliding on the floor, her leg unsteady, she runs her hands up from her thighs, over her stomach and chest, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Hard, pulling and twisting, then releasing, sending the twin mounds bouncing with more than just the motions of her hips.
He grunts, hands tightening even further, moving faster, grinding her hard against his hips, as though he thinks he can somehow penetrate even deeper into her then he already is. His cock twitches and throbs, hard and thick and slippery with her slick and his precome. She can tell by the way the breath hisses between his teeth that he's close - as if the throbbing of his cock inside her and the tightening of his balls underneath wasn't enough - and feels her own climax building as well. Tries to relax her inner muscles, draw it out, keep him from coming long enough to let her get off first, or at least at the same time, but it's out of her control now, her hips thrusting, her cunt working his shaft all over and there's not much she can do to stop them.
So she keeps doing what she was doing, hands squeezing her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples, dark and hard as she plucks at them, and surrenders herself to the sensation of rising and sinking tension from the pit of her stomach, down through her legs, up her torso, bright and strong around her spine, then out through her arms and up into her head, until the sensation glows through her entire body.
In the end, it is enough.
Shepard groans underneath her, fingers tight on her hips and ass, and she feels him twitch inside her, once; then again, and again, and again, each of them riding the sensation of the other's orgasm, her clenching cunt, his throbbing cock, until neither of them has the energy to go on. She lands face first on his bandaged chest, panting, and feels her body rise and fall as he pants as well, chest heaving. His grasp has loosened, and the spots where his fingers dug into her ass ache - she would bruise, if her skin weren't already blue.
"Fuck," Shepard hisses between gasps, "that was good."
"Acceptable," she retorts, searching for strength to pull herself off him and stand up, but finding nothing. Not even enough to slap his hands away when he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. He shouldn't, she thinks, and she shouldn't let him, but maybe it won't be so bad - just once, and just for a little while.