![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[Mass Effect] (untitled) F!Shepard/Garrus
Summary: After a request for "slow and tender sex". Shepard and Garrus finally have their special moment together, but kill the mood when a careless remark reminds them of what they were trying to forget.
Length: 2100 words
Rating: R for rather tame descriptions of M/F sex
Notes: The ending just kind of happened. I don't think the abruptness of it went over well, but it felt kind of realistic, so I decided to keep it...
Chafing was not an issue.
Both of them had laughed longer and harder than strictly necessary when they realized both of them had gone to Dr. Solus for advice. It was funny, but that was the kind of laughter that comes when embarrassment gives way to relief. They had ended up leaning against each other for support, and he would always treasure the memory of the way she looked up, blinking tears from her eyes, cheeks flushed subtly pink, and kissed his chin, which was as high as she could reach.
Any species whose chief manipulative organs are equipped with unretractable claws must needs learn to be careful. Even among their own kind, a careless touch could penetrate skin.
He had instinctively known that from the very beginning, and military training had only reinforced the knowledge. The word control had been repeated like a mantra. In order to control a weapon, a ship, a terminal, one must control one's self.
By now, it was entirely unconscious.
Even so, he had prepared for the occasion. Carefully filed down the points of his talons, rounded off the edges. It was common practice among turians working with aliens, but he had never bothered. Control had been enough, until now.
They had shared the wine. It had taken some time to find something they could both drink without danger, it had been rather expensive, and the taste had been at best acceptable, in his opinion. But perhaps that was the way human wine was supposed to taste, and it had at least dissolved some of the tension.
They had shed their clothes. Spent a few moments studying each other's features, all the old scars, without touching. And then, they had stepped into bed together. Now he was on his back, with Shepard on top of him.
She was not idle where she lay. Kissing was a key part in human displays of affection. He had read up on it. It seemed impossible, but the Commander was... used to being impossible. Her lips were warm against him, somehow managed to adapt to his colder, harder, less mobile features. The tips of their tongues met, circled slowly. It felt... intimate. Vulnerable. Trusting. His teeth were sharp. He could hurt her terribly, had he been so inclined.
She had even closed her eyes.
Slowly and carefully, her fingers began to explore the bare skin at the back of his head and neck. That was more familiar. Allowing someone to touch one of the weakest, most exposed parts of his body - that was turian affection. It was entirely natural to respond in the same way. To brush her hair aside and stroke soft, warm skin. First with the tips of his talons, feather-light, and it made her shiver and pull her shoulders up. Then with the bare skin further up his fingers. He could never be as soft as her; his skin was leathery and dry compared to hers, but the touch did not seem to displease.
Quite the opposite, if he read the little purring noise, and the way she tightened her grasp on him, right.
One hand slowly massaging the back of her neck, he let the other slide down her back. Traced her spine with a finger, again struck by the thought of how vulnerable and exposed she felt. Yet, at the same time, she felt curiously strong. He wasn't familiar with humans, not this close, but something told him that the Commander was unique among them.
As if he needed to be told. No other human had ever made him feel like this.
No other turian, either.
His ruminations were interrupted as she pulled her head back, eyes opening, and smiled down at him.
"We doing okay so far?"
He nodded mutely. Her fingers were still moving behind his head, stroking and kneading. It was making his spine tingle.
"Can I try something else?"
Again, he nodded. Part of him wanted her to just keep doing what she was doing, but the curiosity was stronger - much stronger.
Shepard smiled and began to slide lower, lips and fingers seeking out the spaces between plates on his chest. Skin against skin. Slow and tender. He shivered, and heard her laugh, deep and melodic.
"Maybe we're not as different as we like to think," she offered, before pressing her lips against him again, drawing a wet trail between two gleaming plates with her tongue.
"Perhaps," he said, and toyed with a stray lock of her hair; that, too, was fascinating. He had thought it would be stiffer.
"Just enough to be interesting." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Human body language was fascinating.
And Shepard moved further down.
He closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the pillow, and groaned. It was only when he felt an unexpected movement and heard a brief rustling sound that he peered down at his companion again. She held up a little blue cardboard package. Prophylactics - they had each brought their own box; this was hers, his had been grey.
"Sorry, buddy," she said as she deftly unpacked the condom, and gave him a little grin. "I know it probably feels better without this."
"I'll live," he assured her, which was a rather lame thing to say. This fact did not pass her by, and the grin widened.
"I certainly hope so!" she said, and began to roll the rubber onto him.
If he had been about to say anything, he couldn't remember. Her hands were so soft. The thin layer between his skin and hers did nothing to hide that.
Then he realized that she was teasing him - drawing little meaningless patterns with her fingertips - and let his head fall back against the pillow again, groaning helplessly. Shepard giggled, a surprisingly carefree sound.
"You sound like a cross between a hawk and a kitten," she said, and gave the tip of his prick a firm little poke with her finger. "Well. A really big kitten."
He raised his head to look down at her. She was curled up, rather catlike herself, ready to pounce.
"I, uh, I don't think the translator caught that."
Shepard shrugged. "I don't think it had to. Pretty sure I got the meaning." She wrapped her hands around him and began stroking, slowly and softly. "Hey. I bet turian girls can't do this."
He barely had time to blink before her tongue was upon him, softer and warmer, slipperier than her fingers.
Then her lips followed, wrapping tightly around him, and her cheeks hollowed slightly as she began to suck. Her hands began to explore his chest and stomach once more, just as tickling and teasing as before.
He let out another groan. Shepard laughed, tongue twitching against him.
"Well?" she asked, pulling back slightly. He shook his head.
"N... no," he managed. "Too much... too much teeth. Not enough lips." Tongues were familiar enough (though a different kind of tongue), but not this. Never this.
"Want me to continue?"
His answer was as quick as it was enthusiastic, and she was not the only one who laughed.
As soon as the laughter subsided, she bowed her head over him again.
Hot, wet and soft.
There was no way he could last long against that.
"Commander," he managed, while his body still seemed willing to obey. "If you keep that up, I..."
She pulled back slowly, until her lips popped off him with a smack, and licked her lips. Her fingers still did not stop roaming over his body, but that, he could resist - probably.
"Isn't that the point?" she wondered, tilting her head a little to the side, her expression one of badly feigned innocence.
"But," he objected.
"Yeah, I guess there's really no diplomatic way to ask this. You think you can you get it up again?"
He nodded. She smiled.
"Then I don't see a problem."
Before he could think of anything to say, she dove in again, tongue and lips working on him with even more enthusiasm than before.
No, he wasn't going to last long at all.
Shepard slid her hands down and held on to his hips, and kept going. Effortlessly matching his movements even when his body trembled and shook.
He kept his hands on the bedframe. Blunted or sharp, his claws would have gone straight through both sheets and mattress.
The next time he opened his eyes, Shepard was looking down at him, a satisfied smirk on her lips, her cheeks flushed with exertion (or perhaps arousal, if he remembered his books right).
"Hot," she stated, simply, and bent down to nuzzle the side of his neck. "You want to trade places?"
He certainly did. Convincing his hands to let go of the bedframe, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, pinning the human underneath him. She chuckled, clinging to him, and he remained lying there during several heartbeats before she let go.
It was time to show what he had learned - and hopefully not make a total fool of himself in the process.
He may not have her lips, but he did have the advantage as far as tongues were concerned. Both, he thought with a certain sense of satisfaction, in the department of reach and flexibility.
Shepard gave a little cooing noise when he curled it around the outside of her left breast.
"That thing is going to make some lucky girl very happy one day," she said. She had one hand at the back of his head, gently but firmly urging him on.
"I'm lucky I have you to practice on until then," he said, and she smacked her fist against his forehead.
"Hey!"
The pout was completely fake, and entirely adorable. He brushed his thumb against her lower lip, and felt her smile. As he returned his attention to her breasts, she started kissing his fingers, tickling the exposed skin.
"Don't worry, Commander. I know you'd make me regret it if I went astray."
"No matter how much Kelly would like it if you did." Shepard's smile faded, and she turned away, making a low, angry noise in the back of her throat. "Dammit. Not the time for that."
"No," he agreed, pulling back a little. He couldn't tell her that it would all turn out fine, that everything would work out. They were both too old, too jaded to believe it. "I believe in you," he said instead. "Whatever happens, I will not regret that I stood by you." It may have been a strange place and time, a stranger situation, for that, but it was something he could say without hesitation.
She draped her arms over his neck, loosely, and sighed. "What am I supposed to do with you, Garrus? You never used to be such a smooth talker."
"I could think of a few things." He shook his head, carefully as to not scrape her with any of the rougher parts of his anatomy. "But perhaps we should save that for the victory celebration."
She smiled wryly. "You're assuming we'll have one."
"I'm saying we're the only ones who stand a chance of having one. Shepard, I have been with you too long to believe anyone who tells me we're attempting the impossible."
"Optimist." She shook her head. "Ugh, listen to me. Totally killed the mood, and I'm just lying here feeling sorry for myself." She snorted. "So much for something going right for once."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm amazed we got as far as we did. Things usually go wrong much sooner."
They had both known, but not talking about it had made it all... not exist, at least for a few brief moments. Now that it was out and hanging over them, neither of them was in the mood any more. He shifted his weight uneasily.
"If you... need to be alone, I could..."
The way her arms tightened around him was all the answer he needed, and so they settled in on the bed, Shepard on top of him, nuzzling his neck again, but in a more relaxed manner.
"You make a really lousy pillow," she said after a few moments, "you know that?"
He nodded, a tiny motion she couldn't help but feel. "I make an even worse blanket."
It made her chuckle, briefly. "I guess."
"Should we rest, Commander?"
There was no reply.
After a few moments, he closed his eyes.
Through the darkness of space, the Normandy quietly cut its path.
In the captain's cabin, time passed in comfortable silence between two comrades who had said everything they needed to say.
Length: 2100 words
Rating: R for rather tame descriptions of M/F sex
Notes: The ending just kind of happened. I don't think the abruptness of it went over well, but it felt kind of realistic, so I decided to keep it...
Chafing was not an issue.
Both of them had laughed longer and harder than strictly necessary when they realized both of them had gone to Dr. Solus for advice. It was funny, but that was the kind of laughter that comes when embarrassment gives way to relief. They had ended up leaning against each other for support, and he would always treasure the memory of the way she looked up, blinking tears from her eyes, cheeks flushed subtly pink, and kissed his chin, which was as high as she could reach.
Any species whose chief manipulative organs are equipped with unretractable claws must needs learn to be careful. Even among their own kind, a careless touch could penetrate skin.
He had instinctively known that from the very beginning, and military training had only reinforced the knowledge. The word control had been repeated like a mantra. In order to control a weapon, a ship, a terminal, one must control one's self.
By now, it was entirely unconscious.
Even so, he had prepared for the occasion. Carefully filed down the points of his talons, rounded off the edges. It was common practice among turians working with aliens, but he had never bothered. Control had been enough, until now.
They had shared the wine. It had taken some time to find something they could both drink without danger, it had been rather expensive, and the taste had been at best acceptable, in his opinion. But perhaps that was the way human wine was supposed to taste, and it had at least dissolved some of the tension.
They had shed their clothes. Spent a few moments studying each other's features, all the old scars, without touching. And then, they had stepped into bed together. Now he was on his back, with Shepard on top of him.
She was not idle where she lay. Kissing was a key part in human displays of affection. He had read up on it. It seemed impossible, but the Commander was... used to being impossible. Her lips were warm against him, somehow managed to adapt to his colder, harder, less mobile features. The tips of their tongues met, circled slowly. It felt... intimate. Vulnerable. Trusting. His teeth were sharp. He could hurt her terribly, had he been so inclined.
She had even closed her eyes.
Slowly and carefully, her fingers began to explore the bare skin at the back of his head and neck. That was more familiar. Allowing someone to touch one of the weakest, most exposed parts of his body - that was turian affection. It was entirely natural to respond in the same way. To brush her hair aside and stroke soft, warm skin. First with the tips of his talons, feather-light, and it made her shiver and pull her shoulders up. Then with the bare skin further up his fingers. He could never be as soft as her; his skin was leathery and dry compared to hers, but the touch did not seem to displease.
Quite the opposite, if he read the little purring noise, and the way she tightened her grasp on him, right.
One hand slowly massaging the back of her neck, he let the other slide down her back. Traced her spine with a finger, again struck by the thought of how vulnerable and exposed she felt. Yet, at the same time, she felt curiously strong. He wasn't familiar with humans, not this close, but something told him that the Commander was unique among them.
As if he needed to be told. No other human had ever made him feel like this.
No other turian, either.
His ruminations were interrupted as she pulled her head back, eyes opening, and smiled down at him.
"We doing okay so far?"
He nodded mutely. Her fingers were still moving behind his head, stroking and kneading. It was making his spine tingle.
"Can I try something else?"
Again, he nodded. Part of him wanted her to just keep doing what she was doing, but the curiosity was stronger - much stronger.
Shepard smiled and began to slide lower, lips and fingers seeking out the spaces between plates on his chest. Skin against skin. Slow and tender. He shivered, and heard her laugh, deep and melodic.
"Maybe we're not as different as we like to think," she offered, before pressing her lips against him again, drawing a wet trail between two gleaming plates with her tongue.
"Perhaps," he said, and toyed with a stray lock of her hair; that, too, was fascinating. He had thought it would be stiffer.
"Just enough to be interesting." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Human body language was fascinating.
And Shepard moved further down.
He closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the pillow, and groaned. It was only when he felt an unexpected movement and heard a brief rustling sound that he peered down at his companion again. She held up a little blue cardboard package. Prophylactics - they had each brought their own box; this was hers, his had been grey.
"Sorry, buddy," she said as she deftly unpacked the condom, and gave him a little grin. "I know it probably feels better without this."
"I'll live," he assured her, which was a rather lame thing to say. This fact did not pass her by, and the grin widened.
"I certainly hope so!" she said, and began to roll the rubber onto him.
If he had been about to say anything, he couldn't remember. Her hands were so soft. The thin layer between his skin and hers did nothing to hide that.
Then he realized that she was teasing him - drawing little meaningless patterns with her fingertips - and let his head fall back against the pillow again, groaning helplessly. Shepard giggled, a surprisingly carefree sound.
"You sound like a cross between a hawk and a kitten," she said, and gave the tip of his prick a firm little poke with her finger. "Well. A really big kitten."
He raised his head to look down at her. She was curled up, rather catlike herself, ready to pounce.
"I, uh, I don't think the translator caught that."
Shepard shrugged. "I don't think it had to. Pretty sure I got the meaning." She wrapped her hands around him and began stroking, slowly and softly. "Hey. I bet turian girls can't do this."
He barely had time to blink before her tongue was upon him, softer and warmer, slipperier than her fingers.
Then her lips followed, wrapping tightly around him, and her cheeks hollowed slightly as she began to suck. Her hands began to explore his chest and stomach once more, just as tickling and teasing as before.
He let out another groan. Shepard laughed, tongue twitching against him.
"Well?" she asked, pulling back slightly. He shook his head.
"N... no," he managed. "Too much... too much teeth. Not enough lips." Tongues were familiar enough (though a different kind of tongue), but not this. Never this.
"Want me to continue?"
His answer was as quick as it was enthusiastic, and she was not the only one who laughed.
As soon as the laughter subsided, she bowed her head over him again.
Hot, wet and soft.
There was no way he could last long against that.
"Commander," he managed, while his body still seemed willing to obey. "If you keep that up, I..."
She pulled back slowly, until her lips popped off him with a smack, and licked her lips. Her fingers still did not stop roaming over his body, but that, he could resist - probably.
"Isn't that the point?" she wondered, tilting her head a little to the side, her expression one of badly feigned innocence.
"But," he objected.
"Yeah, I guess there's really no diplomatic way to ask this. You think you can you get it up again?"
He nodded. She smiled.
"Then I don't see a problem."
Before he could think of anything to say, she dove in again, tongue and lips working on him with even more enthusiasm than before.
No, he wasn't going to last long at all.
Shepard slid her hands down and held on to his hips, and kept going. Effortlessly matching his movements even when his body trembled and shook.
He kept his hands on the bedframe. Blunted or sharp, his claws would have gone straight through both sheets and mattress.
The next time he opened his eyes, Shepard was looking down at him, a satisfied smirk on her lips, her cheeks flushed with exertion (or perhaps arousal, if he remembered his books right).
"Hot," she stated, simply, and bent down to nuzzle the side of his neck. "You want to trade places?"
He certainly did. Convincing his hands to let go of the bedframe, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, pinning the human underneath him. She chuckled, clinging to him, and he remained lying there during several heartbeats before she let go.
It was time to show what he had learned - and hopefully not make a total fool of himself in the process.
He may not have her lips, but he did have the advantage as far as tongues were concerned. Both, he thought with a certain sense of satisfaction, in the department of reach and flexibility.
Shepard gave a little cooing noise when he curled it around the outside of her left breast.
"That thing is going to make some lucky girl very happy one day," she said. She had one hand at the back of his head, gently but firmly urging him on.
"I'm lucky I have you to practice on until then," he said, and she smacked her fist against his forehead.
"Hey!"
The pout was completely fake, and entirely adorable. He brushed his thumb against her lower lip, and felt her smile. As he returned his attention to her breasts, she started kissing his fingers, tickling the exposed skin.
"Don't worry, Commander. I know you'd make me regret it if I went astray."
"No matter how much Kelly would like it if you did." Shepard's smile faded, and she turned away, making a low, angry noise in the back of her throat. "Dammit. Not the time for that."
"No," he agreed, pulling back a little. He couldn't tell her that it would all turn out fine, that everything would work out. They were both too old, too jaded to believe it. "I believe in you," he said instead. "Whatever happens, I will not regret that I stood by you." It may have been a strange place and time, a stranger situation, for that, but it was something he could say without hesitation.
She draped her arms over his neck, loosely, and sighed. "What am I supposed to do with you, Garrus? You never used to be such a smooth talker."
"I could think of a few things." He shook his head, carefully as to not scrape her with any of the rougher parts of his anatomy. "But perhaps we should save that for the victory celebration."
She smiled wryly. "You're assuming we'll have one."
"I'm saying we're the only ones who stand a chance of having one. Shepard, I have been with you too long to believe anyone who tells me we're attempting the impossible."
"Optimist." She shook her head. "Ugh, listen to me. Totally killed the mood, and I'm just lying here feeling sorry for myself." She snorted. "So much for something going right for once."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm amazed we got as far as we did. Things usually go wrong much sooner."
They had both known, but not talking about it had made it all... not exist, at least for a few brief moments. Now that it was out and hanging over them, neither of them was in the mood any more. He shifted his weight uneasily.
"If you... need to be alone, I could..."
The way her arms tightened around him was all the answer he needed, and so they settled in on the bed, Shepard on top of him, nuzzling his neck again, but in a more relaxed manner.
"You make a really lousy pillow," she said after a few moments, "you know that?"
He nodded, a tiny motion she couldn't help but feel. "I make an even worse blanket."
It made her chuckle, briefly. "I guess."
"Should we rest, Commander?"
There was no reply.
After a few moments, he closed his eyes.
Through the darkness of space, the Normandy quietly cut its path.
In the captain's cabin, time passed in comfortable silence between two comrades who had said everything they needed to say.