Okay! Another John Shepard/Kaidan Alenko story. It's first person this time. I've been reading a lot of first person novels lately so that's kind of my influence~ :D
Also, sorry if this seems really short and rushed... it's a stroke of a brush, really. There is a strong possibility of part two, with actual sex, so stay tuned. :)

Story inspired by "Get The Fuck Outta Here" by the Presets, obviously the complete title doesn't work cos of guidelines so it's all SFW and boring here.

(X-posted to AFFnet.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect.

His nails bite into the flesh of my body, my stomach, digging into bone and up my civvy shirt.

It's sickeningly hot. The dance floor is armed to the teeth with a mob, so packed that sweaty flesh grinds against sweaty flesh. All skin feels like rubber. The music's deafening, like gunshots in our ears and under our feet.

My eyes open and the booze does nothing for my sight as it blurs as if water's splashed over the lens of my eyes. Nothing feels healthy.

Fingers squeeze my chest, pinching a nipple. I moan a little, wanting his complete attention. His front is pressed against my back, and it's enough to drive me back against his hot body repeatedly, sometimes or not to the beat of the dirty, teeth-grinding song.

His voice is only a husky noise between louder noises. 'Kaidan.'

I throw my head back against his shoulder and he begins to suck somewhere on my neck.

God. Yes. Move. Fuck. Move.

I'm not sure if I've spoken aloud, but I'm sure he's read my mind. His hand is there in front of my pants, kneading my groin with the palm of his hand. I breathe hard and turn my head, and our faces meet clumsily.

John finds my lips and then he's got his tongue sliding with mine. One more of my moans encourage his hand and aah, fuck. His hand gropes my cock so the material cinches and my voice shudders and I think I'm calling out his name over again. Voices around us sound like howls, jamming my ear. I can't tell the difference between my voice and theirs.

He grinds up against me, and I decide that's enough so I spin around and crush my open mouth to his open mouth. My shirt's halfway up my chest, stubbornly clinging there, not doing me any favours.

I very nearly bite his lips off. I demand more of him by my arm jerking his face closer but he's shy all of a sudden, kissing me back mildly.

John Shepard is a huge fucking tease, and I think he knows.

We lock eyes as we pause for breath. I feel too tight for my own skin. My shirt gnaws at my muscles so I itch.

My tongue runs over the top row of teeth. My eyes roam over John's body, checking him out. His civvies compliment all the angles and muscles and sweat trickles down his temple, eyes glaring into mine in a way that feels demanding.

Shepard is my CO, and that thought feels unbelievable. Shepard could get away with fucking me senseless on the dance floor, surrounded by lustful eyes – I'd let him.

It's a familiar fantasy; sometimes so vivid that in my memory, it's already happened. He'd be rough with his hands, possessive with his mouth, and fuck me so I screamed.

I'd be willing, possessed, and always need more.

I bite my lip with an incisor, breathing through it. His eyes dart from my groin to my mouth to my eyes and back down again. He's indecisive.

'Shepard,' I call his name with a gasp, letting him know with my voice that he could do whatever he wanted with me.

Fingers shove down my pants and curl around my erection. I only gasp, pressing against him as tight as I could manage. He jerks me off and I'm panting, hoarsely, into the cut of his neck.

My back slams into something real solid and half my breath is lost, a tiny bit of vertigo angers my senses. That hand roughs me up faster, and I thrust my hips into his hand, aching. The solid thing I was leaning against felt like a wall, and I verified it by turning my head, cheek pressed to what felt like ice.

Without much warning Shepard removes his hand and presses his cock to mine, separated by material but I can feel him, hard as nails like me and then he–shit–he grinds against me, slow, and fuck, YES.

Shouting his name, I grab his ass, his back, squeezing the muscle at his cheek and line of his hips. The wall is helping plenty, it grounds me, and Shepard slams into me into the wall with sheer force.

His speech slurs like a pick-up line in my ear and it's probably the fuel Turians call alcohol talking, 'Kaidan you are so goddamn hot.'

I let out a noise, maybe a whimper, impatient and pleased at the same time. 'Hurry up and fuck me, Commander,' I say, without realizing my voice has a tinge of anger in it.

With the same inflection in his tone he says, 'Jesus Christ,' against my skin, nowhere in particular. 'Kaidan, Christ.' He yanks my arms one way and my shirt's over and above my head, thrown. My eyes are on him the entire time.

Our mouths meet once more, we clearly both hunger and then his eyes are open, partly lidded, staring into me. As if he wanted me that way. I cry out a bit, his hand taking advantage of my cock, again.

Then he murmurs the magic words into my ear: 'Let's get the fuck outta here.' He whispers it like a promise. All the encouragement I needed.

Our foreheads are pressed together as we catch our breath, the light blinding in my eyes. Then I pant, 'Yes sir.'

I know already that this is gonna be one crazy fucking night.