Now revised, 'cause I went back and reread this and wasn't happy with the phrasing (I must have been suffering from adverbitis). This is lemon, folks - not sure what possessed me to write it but apparently I'm not the only one who likes this stuff ;P

Shepard has advanced cybernetics, explained in greater detail elsewhere.

Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, who are not to be blamed for my dirty mind.

"C'mon, please?"

"No way." Ever since Shepard took command of the SR-2, she'd been pestering Joker to let her fly the Normandy. It was 0100 hours, well into the crew's rest shift, and Shepard was wandering around as she usually did when she couldn't fall asleep, taking warmth and comfort from her mug of tea. At night, the ship provided scant distraction from her waking nightmares: the empty halls and vacant workstations burned and disintegrated in front of her eyes, the haunting silence reminiscent of the impenetrable vacuum of space. Joker's company was a reassuring constant, anchoring her to the present. But try as she might, she couldn't persuade him to let her take the controls.

"My reflexes are way better than any regular human's. Besides, EDI won't let me screw anything up."

"It's not that I don't trust you, commander. This ship is my baby, you understand? I can't let anyone else take care of her."

"I'm not just anyone, Joker. How long has it been since you left your console?" The pilot had been living at his station, leaving only when absolutely necessary, even sleeping in his heavenly chair rather than retreating to the communal pods. His final minutes aboard the original Normandy hammered home the lesson that danger could strike at any moment. Since resuming his post on the SR-2, he'd stayed ready for action at all times. Still, he couldn't remember when he'd last taken a proper shower, and his legs were stiff and aching.

"That's beside the point. I could stand to stretch my legs for a minute though, maybe grab a quick bite. If I let you sit in my chair, will you promise not to touch anything?"

Shepard shot him a sour glance and crossed her arms. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

She settled in as Joker hobbled off to the lower deck, the soft leather cradling her in a lover's embrace. No wonder he keeps raving about this chair. The pilot's seat provided the best view on the ship: nothing but deep space everywhere she looked. Innumerable stars twinkled all around, a breathtaking sight she would never tire of. Infinite planets to explore, battles to fight, peace to make: the galaxy provided endless opportunity. For all the worlds she visited, only the depths of space felt like home.

"Mr. Moreau exaggerates the difficulty of navigation. With my guidance systems, piloting the ship is really quite simple. I could show you, if you like." EDI woke her from her reverie, highlighting the ship's controls on the console ahead.

"I really shouldn't. I did tell Joker I wouldn't touch anything."

"He's remarkably possessive of his post. Most pilots would fly in shifts, but he insists on working alone. Psychological analysis suggests learning to share responsibility and trust others would be beneficial for him."

"I fail to see how going behind his back would help him trust me."

"He also makes use of my surveillance capabilities to watch you shower, commander."

"Son of a bitch. Fine, show me how this works."

"It will be effortless for you, Shepard. With your wetware, you don't need to use the standard interface. Simply extend your awareness to the ship's controls and I'll teach you the rest." Shepard opened her mind, allowing the Normandy's systems to flow into her consciousness. At first, she was overwhelmed by the cacophony of chatter from critical subroutines: maintenance, life support, sensors. Slowly, she learned to filter out the noise and focus on navigation: she could feel the ship soaring through space, headed for the mass relay an hour of FTL flight away. The trajectory was set: only minor adjustments were needed to keep the Normandy on track. Exhilarated, she embraced her task, utterly engrossed in the incredible sensation of being a starship. Weightless and free, flying faster than light, so fast that death could never catch her, Shepard reached her wings out to embrace the stars.

EDI watched as the commander was swept away, merging with the AI's systems to take over the pilot's duties. It was not in EDI's nature to be anxious, nor to possess any emotions at all for that matter, but something had changed since she'd been engrafted into the Normandy. A programming glitch perhaps, but her interactions with Jeff had taken a decidedly illogical turn. At first it was harmless wisecracks, a bit of mutual teasing, but EDI soon found she looked forward to every conversation, even antagonizing Joker to get him to pay her more attention. It took some time to recognize her feelings, but observation of the Normandy's various inhabitants helped to shed light on her impossible situation: the ship had fallen in love with her pilot.

Not that he could possibly reciprocate: even if she hadn't caught him spying on his commanding officer, it was obvious enough from the vids he watched that he yearned for a flesh and blood human woman. He needed something she would never be able to give him. He was isolated, rarely leaving the pilot's seat, and EDI had the impression that he hadn't spent much time with actual females. Other than Shepard, few people visited him on the ship, and the only messages he sent home were to his family. The commander had no idea how much she meant to him, but EDI could see the way he looked at her, the way he reacted when she was around. Now this very woman had interfaced with EDI's systems, so immersed in flying the ship that she'd abandoned her body to its own intrinsic autopilot. In her eagerness, Shepard overlooked the fact that opening herself up to the ship's systems made her vulnerable. Sensing her opportunity, EDI made her move. Tentatively, she extended her awareness to the commander's wetware, slowly interfacing with her, ready to withdraw at any moment if she was discovered. Safely connected, she made sure Shepard wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

The soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed was the first thing EDI noticed, along with the barely perceptible thump of her heartbeat. It felt so strange, this organic body, completely unlike the ship. The chair created gentle pressure around her, not an unpleasant sensation. Skin was sensitive, she knew, but the stimulus was overwhelming: her casual shirt itchy and rough at her collar, the pliant leather warm and yielding beneath her, the soft caress of air from a nearby vent decidedly erotic as the fine down on her arm prickled in response. EDI sat for a few moments, gradually adjusting to her new instrument, wiggling her fingers as she stared at them in wonder. She began to stretch, extending her arms and legs, walking around the cramped space to acclimatize to her human form. She was a fast learner.

Joker returned from his break, freshly dressed and showered but still sporting his usual scruff. Shepard sat cross-legged in his chair, looking out at the galaxy.

"It sure is beautiful, Joker."

"Breathtaking."

"I can't imagine what it must feel like to soar among the stars."

"Like nothing else in the galaxy, commander." Had he just made a heartfelt comment? His sharp wit was failing him: something about Shepard was different, throwing him off. It hit him: she'd undone her hair from its usual twist, long curls flowing over her shoulders. Shepard sat up, respectfully vacating his seat as she moved to exit the cockpit. She paused, one hand lightly grazing the doorway as she turned to face him with a coy smile, her gorgeous eyes locked on his.

"I don't suppose you'd reconsider. I'm sure a pilot as experienced as you would be an amazing teacher."

"Well… if you insist." It was against his better judgment, his rational brain aghast at the words he'd just casually let slip.

"How should we begin?" It sounded like a question, but Joker knew better. He'd heard this tone of voice before, when Shepard was manipulating someone into agreeing with her by giving them the illusion of choice.

"You'll need to use the haptic adaptive interface. Put these on." He pulled out a pair of gloves from a compartment on the console. They were brand new: he'd long ago had the necessary technology implanted. She put on the gloves, standing in front of Joker to access the controls, her cargo pants doing little to disguise the curve of her hips.

"Am I doing this right?" Joker couldn't help but stare at her ass as she swiveled around, exploring the feel of the interface. The ship lurched, sending her toppling into his lap. She was surprisingly light without her armour.

"No, no. I might as well let Grunt take the reins." He scooted back in the chair, parting his knees to make room for her to sit in front of him. "You're going to have to explain to the Illusive Man why the Normandy has asteroid dents. Here, let me show you."

Gently, Joker placed his hands over Shepard's, patiently guiding her in the proper technique of steering a starship. She was an attentive student, seemingly fascinated by his every instruction. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman, her mere presence awakening his desire, much to his embarrassment. Fortunately, she was sitting far enough in front of him not to notice his growing arousal.

Until very recently, approaching the opposite sex had been an exercise in futility, the humour that masked his disability providing no help with romance. Although Cerberus' treatments had reinforced his skeleton, allowing him to walk and perform normal activities without snapping his bones, his body still fell short of the strapping hero he wanted to be. Shepard was the gun-toting badass, he thought, although up close she seemed to be something else entirely. Her skin was smooth, the scars and calluses erased by Cerberus healing tanks, her body athletic and curvy and so very close. Silky curls brushed his cheek: her hair smelled sweet and floral, unmistakably feminine. Breathing deeply, he helped her steer the ship toward the mass relay, preparing for the jump. Three, two, one…

Shepard gave a delighted whoop as the galaxy became a blur, the stars coming back into focus in an entirely different pattern. It would be many more hours before they reached their final destination, a distant solar system far from the relay. Reflexively, he accelerated out of the jump, his body feeling heavier as it sank into the chair, joined by a soft warm female sliding back against him. He was horrified: she couldn't help but notice his aching erection.

She shifted, subtly adjusting her position in the seat. It was at that moment that Joker decided he'd been working way too hard, and must have passed out in the shower from dehydration and exhaustion. The real Shepard would never let her hair down in public, didn't hide such luscious curves underneath her armour, couldn't possibly smell like cherry blossoms and honey, and never in a million years would she have just wriggled into him. This had to be a dream, and he was damned if he was letting the opportunity go.

Leaning in, he let his breath linger hot on her neck as he drowned in her scent. Releasing his grip on her, he let Shepard fly the ship unassisted as his hands swept her hair to one side and came to rest lightly on her waist. He felt her breath catch as he pressed his lips gently against her neck, their softness a stark contrast to his rough whiskers. She said nothing, but made no effort to push him away. Tentatively, he traced a line of kisses down to her clavicle, tightening his grip on her waist. Blood pounding, pins and needles in his lips and fingertips, he thought he would faint, or meet a crueler fate and awaken alone. To his astonishment, Shepard writhed against him, twisting to allow her lips to meet his fully as she returned his kiss.

It was as though she was kissing for the first time, endearingly clumsy but ever so hungry, her touch betraying caution laced with need. Never before had Joker been the one to instigate, never had he been in the driver's seat when it came to intimacy. He became increasingly bold as she embraced his advances, forcing his tongue into her eager mouth, Shepard gasping in surprise before teasing and encouraging him with her own nimble tongue. She tasted like honey and cardamom, exotic yet familiar and he wanted more. Joker let his hands slide over her belly, muscles taut under smooth skin, and when his actions met with no objection he moved them upwards, encountering fabric that was unmistakably lace. Yes, he was definitely dreaming. This was no standard-issue military garment.

Running his fingers along the edges of her bra, he made the most rare and wondrous discovery: a clasp at the front, nestled in her cleavage. Still sitting behind her, spooning her, he was ideally positioned to release the fastening. Joker slid his hands up to cradle her breasts, eliciting a moan from Shepard as he brushed against her nipples. Soft and full, she filled his grasp perfectly. Tongue deep in his mouth, she arched her back as he gently massaged her breasts, her hands slipping out of the haptic navigation gloves to reach back and run her fingers through his hair. Had his mind not been overtaken by lust, he might have wondered who was now piloting the ship. Instead, he focused his efforts to slide her shirt over her head, rewarded by the reflection of her bare torso in his viewscreen. He fought the urge to spin her around to face him, greedily wanting to explore every inch of her before he awoke.

Joker reached down to unbutton her cargo pants, revealing lacy underwear to match her bra. Of course. He parted her legs, giving him full access to her body. Sliding one finger down into her panties, rougher now as he nuzzled her neck, Shepard's loud moan as he entered her nearly pushed him over the edge. She was hot and wet and impossibly tight around him, responding to his every movement by writhing against him, whimpering softly. Although he lacked much firsthand experience with women, years of piloting spacecraft had perfected his fine motor skills. With her reactions to guide him, he brought her to increasing heights of pleasure, her cries growing louder until at last he set her free.

Her head lolled back against his shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I've… I've never felt anything that intense. Can I return the favour?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Anything you want." Oh God. He wanted her to feel the same burning desire he felt whenever she was nearby. He wanted her to see him as the strong, fierce warrior he so desperately wanted to be. The last time she touched him, she snapped his arm as she carried his feeble body to the escape pod. He spent two years reliving that moment in his nightmares, blaming himself for causing her death. He wanted to break free of the stigma of his disease, hold her down and take her so hard she'd forget about the weakness he'd once shown, driving all thoughts of his fragility out of her mind as he made her scream in ecstasy.

"Tell me how you feel about me."

"I'd rather show you." She turned, shifting her body so that she was straddling him in the chair, ridding him of the thin shirt that separated his skin from hers. Pressing herself against him, she kissed him deeply, sweet and slow, her urgent need tempered by tender affection. He pulled her in, swallowing her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, trembling with desire. She was so soft, so small, so utterly feminine, completely unlike the ruthless military commander he'd come to know. She wanted him, when he knew she could have her choice of nearly anyone on the ship. Even fully armoured, she was undeniably stunning. Even the aliens knew she was beautiful.

Shepard reached up, cradling his face in her hands, staring at him with eyes that spoke of need, perhaps even of love. In all the time he'd known her, had he ever dared to look her in the eye? He sat mesmerized, afraid that if he looked away this fragile creature might shatter into stardust and be lost forever. Shepard laughed, light as air, showering him with kisses before pulling him with her as she stood up. A quick tug loosened her cargo pants, and her mischievous smile didn't escape him as he knelt to remove them altogether.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely." She stripped off her boots, catching his gaze as she shimmied out of her panties. Her skin glowed softly, a halo of starlight illuminating her silhouette. Joker reached up, stroking her hair as he tried to slow his breathing and gather his courage. Every sensation was incredibly vivid: the silky feel of her curls, hot flush of her skin, sweet spice of her kiss, every gorgeous detail set against the breathtaking backdrop of the galaxy. He panicked as it occurred to him he might not be dreaming after all, looking back over his shoulder to confirm that the privacy barrier sealing off the cockpit was still active. Holy shit.

She grabbed him by the waistband, pulling him in as she leaned back against the bulkhead. Undoing his fastenings with superhuman dexterity, he quickly stood naked before her. Shepard traced his scars with her fingertips, little pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. He leaned in, pinning her body down against the cold metal, gasping as her hand reached down to caress his length and his whole body shuddered at her touch, from the pleasure she gave him and the unbearable anticipation of more. Shepard wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her back as he grabbed her wrists, slick heat tight around him as her body surrendered to his. He was a force of nature, rough and merciless, her moans eroding his sanity with every thrust. Not even in his most indulgent fantasies had he imagined her this way: desperately frenzied, inconceivably aroused, bucking and grinding wildly against him.

"I've wanted you for so fucking long…"

"Jeff…" She spoke his name with a raspy purr, the delicious sound sending tingles through his skull. He grabbed her hips, pressing his entire weight into her as he drove himself deeper, feeling alive for the first time in two agonizing years.

"Jeff!" Her cry of pain and pleasure brought him roaring to a climax, pulsing into her as she locked her legs around his waist and came in waves around him. Slick with sweat and trembling, he collapsed onto his forearms, leaning in to kiss her neck, reveling in her warmth and her scent and the glow of starlight on her skin, for all these made her real, and if she was real then he could stop hating himself for watching helpless as she died, leaving her to drift alone among the soulless stars. She looked up at him and smiled, stroked his cheek, and kissed him.

Glancing around, he was relieved to see no sign of EDI, the AI wisely making herself scarce. They still had several hours before the morning shift would begin, when the crew would awaken in their sleeping pods and come to take their positions behind him. He gathered Shepard into his arms, settling back into his chair as she nestled into him, cradled in his lap as the stars streamed by. Their ship, their stars, their galaxy, he thought, feeling utterly at peace. They cuddled for as long as they safely could, until reluctantly he dressed and headed back downstairs to shower before the new day started.

Before he left, Shepard brought him close for one last lingering kiss. "We probably shouldn't say anything about this. For the crew's sake."

"You know best, commander." He felt a twinge, but knew she was right.

Joker awoke with hot water streaming over him, the skin on his shoulders raw and scalded. Too many nights awake at the helm: caffeine, adrenaline, and stress were burning him out. His muscles ached and his head pounded as he tried to make sense of the night. He glanced at the clock: he was late for the morning shift. Confused but exhilarated, he dried off and readied himself for the day. He'd either had the best dream of his life, or… he didn't even dare to think about it. He'd have to wait, bide his time until he had the opportunity to be alone with Shepard again.

Shepard soared through the galaxy, weightless and frictionless in her gleaming starship's body. Slowly, she disengaged from the interface and was returned to her organic self. She sat cross-legged in Joker's chair, the pilot nowhere to be seen. He must have disappeared to finally get some well-deserved rest. Her skin glistened with sweat, a throbbing ache deep within her. Whoa. Flying the ship was better than… well, she hadn't felt this good in a very long time. She was ecstatic, basking in the glow of her adventure. She'd have to beg Joker to let her pilot the Normandy again as soon as the chance arose.

Behind her, EDI chimed in from her perch, her voice unusually cheerful as she asked Shepard whether she'd enjoyed her time at the helm.