Author's Note: I've been wanting to write their first night together before, but it doesn't have a place in "Just Like Old Times." So I thought I'd just post it as a one-shot. Smut/fluff. I tried to keep them both in character and infuse it with just enough interspecies awkwardness to be realistic. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

The hot water of the shower washed some of her nerves away. It had been ballsy, she knew, suggesting what she had to Garrus. She had felt the words escape her lips, barely recognizing them as her own. Those thoughts had been there, that was for sure, but she hadn't anticipated blurting out her deep, strange attraction to him. And then, once it was out… well, Shepard was never one to look back.

Back on Omega, when Archangel had revealed himself to be Garrus, she had been surprised at the ferocity of the thrill that had run through her. The sight of his face – tired eyes and a self-satisfied grin on his smug mug – had been like cool water to her weary, cybernetics-laden body.

The second thrill had confirmed it to her. The way her heart soared when he walked through that door aboard the Normandy, already cracking jokes about his scars when hours before he had been lying on an operating table within in inch of his life… Well, she knew then that her feelings were stronger than those she had for the rest of her comrades.

But he had been troubled, distant and brooding. Though he had fallen immediately into step with her once she assured him that Cerberus held no insidious sway over her, she had felt that he was not all there. He finally confessed to her the doubt that plagued him over the loss of his crew – and the ire that burned inside him at Sidonis's betrayal. When he tracked his former friend down, she went along with him, but drew the line at murder. He was not a cold-blooded killer. And he realized that, though his desire for justice fought bitterly against the quiet urging for mercy.

It had been after that mission, when he had thanked her for not letting him cross that line, that he told her the story about his tiebreaker with the recon scout aboard a turian ship years ago. She saw the teasing glint in his eye, the way his mandibles moved fluidly as he told the story. There was a flirting lilt in his voice, and she lost herself in that moment and blurted out her witty rejoinder: "How 'bout we skip right to the tiebreaker?" She had been shocked to hear her private thoughts bursting from her lips, but she hadn't missed a beat, letting him mull it over, until he was comfortable with the idea.

And she had seen the clues. The lowering of his voice, the change in his posture. The idea was just as hot to him as it was to her.

She shut the shower off, toweling herself dry as she felt that tingle spread down her body: anticipation.

She dressed methodically, a soldier through-and-through. And as she stepped out of the bathroom, her heart fluttered at the resonant voice that greeted her.

"Hey," he said, softly. "I brought wine. Best I could afford on a vigilante's salary."

She said nothing – how could she, with her heart in her throat? She felt a silly, giddy smile spreading across her face, and she crossed her arms, trying to bring some of her cool confidence back.

But damn, with Garrus looking at her that way, all dressed up in his civvies for her, she just couldn't seem to muster up that composure.

Her silence seemed to unnerve him, and he crossed the room suddenly, punching a code into the console. Music began to play from her speakers – reminiscent of Flux or Afterlife, or some other seedy location. Garrus spread his arms and strutted over to the fish tank, as if to say: you like?

She wondered for a moment what sort of vids Mordin had given him. She hadn't watched hers, choosing instead to leaf uncomfortably through the pamphlets he'd sent to her datapad. That had been enough…

"If you were a turian, I'd be complimenting your waist or your fringe," Garrus was saying as she closed the distance between them slowly. "So… your, uh, hair," he paused on the word, looking up at the towel-rumpled locks, "looks good. And your waist is… very supportive."

His voice took on a pleased lilt on his last words, and his eyes lingered on her mid-section. Her smile grew. Then, he shifted and his eager smile dropped from his face.

"Hopefully that's not offensive in human culture. Crap. I knew I should have watched the vids – "

She cut him off at that.

"Whoa, consider me seduced, smooth talker," she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and feeling the warmth rise up in her voice. "Now shut up and stop worrying."

She turned the music off – it was distracting, at best – and turned her attention back to him. He had crumpled a little before her, his shoulders slouching. He held the wine at his side like a consolation prize.

"I just," he started, his voice uncertain, "I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard. My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis…"

He looked her straight in the eye, and she felt herself compelled towards him, drawn by the magnetism of his gaze.

"I want something to go right. Just once…" he trailed off.

She reached for him, silencing him with the soft touch of her fingertips against his scarred face. He looked at her again, scared and vulnerable in the flickering blue light of the aquarium. He stepped closer, dropping his forehead to touch hers gently.

"Garrus," she murmured, his name a supplication on her breath.

His fingertips had trailed up her arm, and now he pulled her gently towards him with soft pressure on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled like one of the pine forests back on earth after a rain. The smell was so comforting – like home.

She felt him exhale a heavy breath, his chest compressing at the release. She drew him closer and he wrapped his arms firmly around her shoulders.

"Shepard," he said finally, his breath rustling the strands of hair that fell across her neck.

She looked up into his face – that face that she had come to love. She didn't understand her attraction to him. There was little about a turian that fit the human norms of sexual attractiveness, and yet, she felt her breath catch in her throat when his eyes captured hers. And the look he was giving her now pierced into her, drawing the air from her lungs and making her tremble.

He noticed. His gaze pulled away as he took one of her shaking hands in his own.

"Shepard," he said quietly. "If you don't want this…"

She cut him off again, taking his face in her hands.

"I want this," she said, strength in her voice. "I want you, Garrus."

He stared at her, as if trying to assess her words, read the truth in them. She held his gaze. His hands came up to her face, tracing the lines of her cheekbones, her eyebrows, her nose. A gloved talon came to rest on her lips, and she felt them curve up under his touch. She nuzzled into his hand and was pleased to hear a contented sigh from him.

She reached up for his visor.

"May I?" she asked.

He nodded, slightly, and she removed the visor from his face, leaving nothing to distract from his blue eyes. She lifted herself up onto her tiptoes, touching her lips to the scars on the side of his face. He sighed again and relaxed into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

He began to stroke his hands along her shoulders as she moved her lips to the smooth side of his face and caressed his unblemished mandible with her lips and her breath. She let her mouth trace the tattooed clan markings on his face. One of his hands found the small of her back and she responded with a soft moan, burying her face in his neck.

He was so warm. She felt the heat radiate off him and curled herself closer into him, losing herself in the embrace.

Garrus removed his hands and she stepped back, fearful that he was changing his mind. But then she realized he was peeling off his gloves, and when she looked up into his face, he was giving her a look so fierce that it knocked away any doubts she had been harboring about his interest in her.

...

Garrus dropped the gloves beside them, anxious to feel her skin against his. He had clipped and filed his talons down, for fear of scratching her too deeply tonight, and he ached to press his fingers against her.

He had never touched his commander this way, and he had never felt human skin against his own. She looked up into his face, her chin tilted up and her eyelids heavy, the lashes casting sultry shadows down her cheeks. He touched her there first, tipping her chin up with a soft touch from his fingers and burying his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her.

She was sweet and salty – honey and sweat, with cool, clean traces of soap wafting from her damp hair. He absorbed that scent, committed it to memory. Just in case…

But no, that was not something they would think about tonight. He wanted all his focus on her, at least for the next few hours.

He slid his hands down her shoulders to her waist. He hesitated – was he moving too fast? He felt his heartbeat pick up at the thought of where his hands were about to go. Would she think him brazen for revealing the smooth skin of her waist? He thought back to conversations he had overheard in his days on the Citadel. Human erogenous zones were different. They were aroused by different things than turians, so this would probably not be met with shock…

Damn. I should have watched those vids, he thought, not for the first time that evening.

"You're thinking too much," she whispered then, her breath sending chills down his neck.

He slid his bare hands beneath her shirt, caressing the skin of her waist. She sighed, pressing her body into his. Electricity pulsed down his body at the touch.

Spirits, her skin is so soft, he thought, pressing his hands firmly into the narrow curve of her waist, her shirt riding up so that her bare belly pressed against him. The sinews of her muscles shifted under the pressure of his grip and he felt that spark sizzle through him, rousing a deep growl in his chest.

Gently, he pushed forward, directing her back against the aquarium and pressing himself into the curves of her body.

She's perfect…

Her lithe body arched against him and she pulled his face against hers, touching their mouths together.

He stiffened a little, unsure of what to do. He had seen this gesture performed between humans before, but he was reasonably confident that turians couldn't kiss.

"Shepard," he murmured against her mouth. "Shepard, I don't think…"

She tilted her head back, looking up at him.

"Kissing isn't exactly…" he stammered, feeling the nerves surge back into his awareness. "Turians don't have… lips."

"But you do have tongues, right?" she asked, caressing his face gently.

He wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Well, yes," he said, "of course we do – "

She silenced him again with her mouth on his, and when she spoke again, he felt her lips move against the plates of his mouth.

"Let me teach you," she said.

His silence was his acquiescence, and she read it perfectly. She kissed the edge of the plates tenderly with her soft lips, then flicked her tongue between them, urging his mouth open. She slid her tongue inside, finding his own.

The jolt that ran through him then was unexpected. He knew that turian tongues were relatively sensitive – he had bitten down on his own once too many – but he had never anticipated this use. Granted, it was a bit more difficult with a turian partner.

She's going to ruin me for my species, he thought. So much for not having a human fetish. I think I'm sold.

Her tongue retreated from his mouth, but he followed it. She accepted him willingly into her mouth and he explored gently with his tongue, running it along the edges of her blunt teeth, twining it with her tongue, and caressing the interior of her lips.

Her hands found their way around his waist and slipped under his shirt. He groaned, and she pressed eagerly against him at the sound.

Her fingers trailed along the sensitive skin of his waist and he felt himself shudder with pleasure. She pressed harder, kneading the skin and he winced, pulling back and gently removing her hands.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Sensitive?"

"Yeah," he said with a soft chuckle. "We have plating most everywhere, but our waists are more vulnerable."

"Careful, Vakarian," she teased. "You're giving away all your secrets."

"Oh, and you're not?" he replied, pressing into her again and teasing her lips with his tongue.

She melted in his arms, parting her lips for him. But when he pulled back, sure of his victory, she was giving him one of her sly smiles.

"Trust me," she said, her voice dropping to a husky purr. "You've barely even scratched the surface."

Those words rang in his ears, and the suggestion in her voice drove him wild.

"Care to give me some pointers?"

She smiled wider and brought her hands up to the buttons of her shirt. Her dexterous fingers worked quickly, parting the shirt to Garrus's seeking hands. He paused, his hands hovering over the cloth-covered mounds beneath her shirt. He looked up, seeking guidance.

...

Shepard shrugged the shirt from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Garrus was regarding her quizzically, his hands centimeters from her breasts. She met his gaze, and was about to reach behind her to unclasp her bra when the sensation of his warm hands cupping her breasts stopped her. Her stomach did little fluttery turns inside her and she closed her eyes.

The warmth of him soaked through the thin cloth of the bra, spreading a glow of heat through her torso. He touched tenderly, gingerly. He seemed to have already caught on that this was not unlike his waist: sensitive.

She twisted her arms behind her to unclasp the bra and let it loosen in Garrus's grip. His eyes widened as he pulled the fabric away from her chest, his eyes focusing on the bare skin of her breasts.

He was silent for a moment, pondering. He replaced his hands, cupping her breasts gently, tracing his thumbs over her nipples. Goose-bumps exploded down her arms and she gasped a little at the sensation. Garrus growled, a pleased sound.

"It seems I've found one of your secrets," he said, bending down to kiss her tender flesh with his tongue.

She groaned, unable to form a coherent response to his taunt. She arched her back, feeling her shoulders press into the cool glass behind her. Her fingers found her way to his fringe and kneaded the skin there. He seemed to like that, and he purred into her chest, the vibrations spreading pleasantly through her.

She bunched her hands in the collar of his shirt, pulling his face up to hers. He helped her with the complex clasps of his turian tunic and she pushed it off him, running her hands over the rough, thick skin that covered the plates of his chest and shoulders. She could feel dense, sinewy muscle between the plates.

He pulled her flush against him, kissing her deeply as her fingers found his fringe again.

...

When she pulled away, she was breathing hard.

"Bed. Now."

Her tone was commanding, and she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him with her towards her bed. He followed, stumbling a little over the stairs, since he was paying attention only to the way her hips moved. Something was different about her movements now that he'd gotten her alone in her quarters. She was looser, nimble, even. He liked it.

She pulled him down on the bed with her, lying beside him and hooking one of her legs over his hips. She was kissing his neck, flicking her tongue against his skin, and he purred at the sensations it was creating in him. The plates of his lower abdomen had loosened and he could feel the pressure of his arousal growing. He ran his hands down her back until he found the curve of her ass.

He pulled her close. He heard her slight intake of breath at the contact, then a low chuckle.

"Well, I guess that's one thing that's the same across species," she murmured into his throat.

He decided to try that tongue trick on her, now that she had stopped kissing him. The skin of her neck was just as soft and smooth as her waist, and he tasted it eagerly, leaving wet trails down to her collarbone. She sighed and tilted her head back, giving him greater access.

Gently, he pressed his hand against her shoulder so she rolled onto her back. He perched himself over her, trailing his tongue down her chest to her stomach. Her back was arched, and the sight of her like that filled him with passion. He flicked his tongue against her stomach and was rewarded with a gasp. He did it again, swirling it around the small, sexy dimple in her stomach. What purpose it served, he didn't know, but the way it drew attention to her narrow waist and her fluid muscles… it was the most erotic thing he had seen. And she seemed to like it when he kissed it, to his great pleasure.

He lingered there for a while, but he sensed her growing impatient. Her hands were massaging under his fringe, urging him on. Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth away from her body and grinned up at her. Her skin was flushed pleasantly – that pink color that human skin could turn sometimes.

He tugged at her waistband questioningly.

"May I?" he asked.

She sat up, pulling him closer to her.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she said wickedly, her hands finding his hips.

He obliged, helping her slide his pants down and over his spurs. She sat back, taking him in. He had fully emerged by now, engorged and tender, and her hands brushed against him tentatively, bringing a groan from him.

"Your turn," he growled.

He had to have her – the passion was burning now, and he wanted nothing between them. She smiled and wriggled out of her pants, and then slipped the small remaining triangle of fabric down her legs, kicking it off into the distance.

...

He stopped suddenly, tilting his head quizzically. She looked down at where his gaze ended, just between her thighs.

"It's… hairy," he said.

She felt herself redden, suddenly very aware of how strange the human body truly was.

"No, no," he said hastily. "I don't dislike it. I just… I was surprised. I didn't…" he sighed heavily.

She didn't know what to say, but all of a sudden, she felt very exposed. She brought her knees together, pulling them up to her chin.

"I'm sorry," Garrus crooned, wrapping one of his smooth, plated arms around her rounded shoulders.

She let herself collapse into his embrace, feeling angry tears prick at her eyes. She had never felt so vulnerable with a partner, so afraid she wouldn't please. And now, naked before this turian whom she had come to care for so fiercely, the terrible stakes she faced tomorrow had vanished, and her greatest fear was that he would be repulsed by her.

What is wrong with me? I'm not some brainless pretty-girl out to snag a husband. Why do I care?

Garrus was making soothing noises into her hair, stroking her shoulders with the tips of his blunted talons. The sensation sent little trickles of comfort down her back, quieting her fears. He wasn't running away. Her embarrassment had been unwarranted.

It's just that things had been going so well…

She turned her head to kiss his neck softly.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have been prepared… watched the vids. I just wanted tonight to be special."

Distress wavered in his voice, and his strong arms gripped her tightly against him.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't expect to be so self-conscious."

He chuckled softly, and she felt her chest vibrate with his.

"I did," he said. "I was afraid I would scare you. Turians aren't as soft as humans. I worried we would start to become intimate, and you would see the spiky monster we're portrayed as in your media."

She shifted at that, about to protest, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"We're no better," he said. "The war and all. There's still a lot of hurt between our species."

"But not between us," Shepard said, feeling her confidence seep back into her with every stroke of his fingers against her skin.

There was a short silence, and she heard Garrus breathe in deeply. His fingers spread across her back, squeezing her gently.

"No," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Not between us."

They sat there for a minute, holding each other close. She glanced down – she couldn't help it – and noticed with a start that something very significant was missing.

"Garrus," she said, hesitant. "I, uh… I may be imagining things, but."

He saw where she was looking and chuckled.

"You're not imagining anything," he said. "Things have, erm, cooled off for now. With all the radiation on Palaven, we've evolved to keep ourselves… protected."

She looked up at him, and his blue eyes were inscrutable.

"Is that it, then?" she asked quietly.

He braced her shoulders with his hands, looking at her fiercely.

"No," he growled. "Not unless you want it to be."

"Of course not," she said. "So… what do we do?"

"Well, I guess we'd better get all warmed up again. I could use some practice, anyway."

His mandibles flicked out at that, something akin to a wink. Shepard reached her hand up to trace his mandibles, then kissed him softly on the mouth. He responded instantly, flicking his tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth to him, feeling his hot, rough tongue caress hers, and she moaned softly, pressing her body against his.

...

The spark was still alive, and when Shepard pressed her lithe, naked body into him and moaned around his tongue, Garrus felt it fan into a flame.

He had dug himself in deep with his mindless words earlier, and had feared – as she seemed to shrink in front of him – that he had made a mess of the evening. He felt his own arousal subside at the shame he felt for the distress he was causing her when she had made herself so vulnerable to him.

But all that seemed forgotten now as she made soft, mewling sounds of pleasure as he kissed her. His hands cupped her ass. So soft and round, unlike a turian woman's.

She's not a turian woman, he thought to himself, she's Shepard. And she's here in my arms.

The last thought had no small part of wonder in it. He couldn't believe that this beautiful, singular being had chosen him. She had no shortage of attractive men that were human – or at least more reminiscent of a human. And yet, she wanted him. She had said so herself.

He slipped his hands around to the front of her, tentatively sliding them lower. The way she squirmed into his touch encouraged him to keep going. He brushed his talons over her opening, relishing the shaky gasp of air she drew in at the touch, and they came away wet and sticky. That was another surprise, and a good one. He closed his eyes and growled deep in his chest, thinking of how that wetness would feel sliding against him.

His plates were shifting again, but first, he wanted to please her, to make up for his fumble earlier in the evening.

Pressing one hand gently into her chest, he lay her back on the bed again, flicking his tongue against the little hollow below her ear. As she relaxed back, he slipped his hands down again, feeling her flex against his touch.

He slid down her body, kneeling between her legs. She was soft and pink, glistening in the dim light. He explored with the pads of his fingers, feeling the give of her skin and spreading her wetness around. Glancing up to make sure she was still enjoying herself, he noticed her worried look.

"Garrus," she said. "Just… be gentle. Talons… well… humans don't have talons."

He waggled his fingers in the air.

"I clipped them. But I'll be careful, I promise," he told her.

He resumed his exploration, parting her moist folds and slipping a finger in. She breathed out a soft moan, and when he glanced up, he saw that she was tangling her fingers in her own hair, her head thrown back and her eyes closed.

His finger worked gently inside her, and he felt her growing warmer around him. He was fully primed again, and ready to enter her, but Spirits she was just so sexy writhing under his ministrations. He slid his finger out of her and contemplated it for a moment.

She whimpered at the loss of contact.

"Garrus," she gasped, "don't stop… please."

He wanted to taste her, drink her in. But he didn't know if that was normal, and then there were the allergic reactions to worry about. She looked down at him, her face flushed and her eyes feverishly bright.

"Shepard," he began, trying to find the words. "Can I…"

...

He was staring at her hungrily, and somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted. She reached over and opened her drawer, pulling out the antihistamine shots that Mordin had insisted she take. She handed one to Garrus.

He smiled his thanks and injected the shot into his muscular thigh – she had certainly noticed the muscle tone before, marveling at the power in his body – and spread her legs with soft pressure of his hands on her inner thigh.

She felt his hot breath against her, teasing her. His tongue flickered out, sending searing heat through her. She gasped, and he chuckled, then quickly resumed his oral exploration of her.

The feel of his rough, hot tongue against her was bringing white spots of delirium to her vision. She closed her eyes, letting the tactile sensations wash over her. His mandibles tickled her inner thighs as his tongue lapped at her. He was exploring, taking his time with every inch. His tongue swiped up and across the little nub above her opening, and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her.

Garrus paused briefly.

"Hmmm," he said, as if he'd just made a great discovery.

He took another swipe at her with his tongue and she let out a strangled cry.

"Oh, God, Garrus…"

"What have we here?" he asked. "Seems important."

"Yes," she gasped out as he swirled his tongue around her clit. "But it's extremely… mmm… sensitive… oh!... so… no teeth."

"As you wish," he said, his voice a low rumble.

He let that tongue torture her in slow, languishing strokes for a few minutes. She arched and writhed, trying to urge him on, faster. He read her silent message and began to pick up his pace, slipping a talon back into her as he lapped his tongue against her.

She clenched her hands around the sheets, twisting the fabric alongside her as her breath came faster and shallower. She felt a wonderful, blissful pleasure growing in her and she abandoned herself to it.

...

When Shepard cried out, Garrus nearly stopped, for fear that he was hurting her. But then he felt the way the inside of her started to clench and release around his finger, and he nearly lost his mind at the idea of her doing that while he was inside her.

She collapsed against the sheets, breathing hard, and he pulled away from her, sliding himself up the bed to lie on his side, propped up on his elbow. He trailed a talon along her stomach, still tasting her tangy and musky on his tongue.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked her cheekily.

She gave him a delirious grin, still gasping for breath.

"You're the detective, Vakarian. What do you think?"

"Hmm," he said, pretending to ponder it. His hands explored her alien body, absorbing the softness of her, the power of her muscles beneath that velvety skin.

She pulled him to her then, her mouth pressing roughly on his own, her tongue tasting his hungrily. She wrapped one bare leg around his waist, pulling him flush against her.

"Garrus," she whispered against his mouth, her cheek pressing against the smooth side of his face.

He heard a hitch in her breath, and she silenced. He traced a talon along her chin, drawing her close with his other arm.

"Yes?" he asked, encouraging her to speak her mind.

"I'm glad you're the one I'm sharing this with," she whispered.

He tried to speak, but there was a lump in his own throat. This evening had taken him by surprise. He'd had no idea what to expect of their little experiment, but he had known what was at stake.

The commander had been a hero to him when he had teamed up with her to fight Saren. She was everything he wanted to be, and she had taken him under her wing, never afraid to chide him for recklessness or praise him for skill. And she had taken the time to speak with him, to learn his stories, his hopes, and his fears.

When she had died…

The news had hit him like a concussive round. His work at C-Sec – already growing stale – soured overnight. Without Shepard, the galaxy felt incomplete. He had gone to Omega, tried to carry on her legacy, tried to do right by her. And he had failed.

In the moment of failure, when he had been facing down three merc groups and the certainty of his own impending death, she had reappeared. A spirit of justice. He knew then he would follow her into hell, if she would have him.

And when she had come to him, all coy smiles and flirtatious winks, he had found a deep need aroused in him. He couldn't think of someone he trusted more, and heaven knows it had been a while since he had… well…

But now, holding her soft, pliable body in his arms, feeling her heartbeat through her ribcage, smelling her sweet and musky scent…

What the hell am I thinking? He wondered. I want to hold her like this forever. I want nothing between us. I want to protect her, to share her joys, to bear her sorrows. Spirits, I sound like a fool.

"Shepard," he finally said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

She began to move softly against him then, rubbing herself against him, pressing close. She leaned back and pulled him on top of her, wrapping both legs around his waist.

"You mentioned something about reach?" she asked.

She had a coy smile on her lips, but her eyes were wide, vulnerable. She looked him directly in his eyes, and her gaze held a question: do you want me?

He brought his face close to hers and took one of her hands in his, closing his wide palm over her narrow fingers.

"You mentioned something about flexibility," he purred.

Her coy smile brightened, turned into something joyful and open. She wriggled her hips, sliding her wet folds against him and pulling a groan out of him. He entered her with a gentle thrust, feeling himself sink into her easily.

She threw her head back, exposing her neck. He nipped softly where her neck met her shoulder and she smiled. She thrust her hips up into his, urging him on. He braced himself with his arms, not wanting to crush her with the full weight of him, and settled into an urgent, passionate rhythm.

"Uhh… Garrus," she groaned, her voice strained.

He responded by increasing the frequency of his thrusts, his urgency spurred on as he sank deeper into her.

"Garrus," she said again, but this time there was pain in her voice.

He stopped, pulling back. She was grimacing.

"I don't think that's going to work… like that."

He noticed now the red marks on her chest – her sensitive skin rubbed raw by his plating.

"Shepard, I'm sorry," he whispered.

She sat up, stilling him with a hand to his face.

"Don't be. We'll just have to improvise."

"Improvise?"

"Well, other positions will be better. Less friction. You're softest at your abdomen and upper thighs – it's mostly your chest that's rubbing."

She thought for a moment, then drew herself up onto her knees.

"From behind would work," she said.

She dropped down onto her hands and knees on the bed, waiting for him. He felt himself hesitate. He wanted her to enjoy this, but…

"What is it?" she asked him, looking back over her shoulder.

"I want…"

He started, but cut himself off. This shouldn't be about what he wanted. But she would have none of that. She turned to face him, sitting back on her heels and reaching out to take his face in her hands.

"What is it?" she repeated, her voice soft and her gaze searching.

"I want to look at you. I want to see your face, look in your eyes. This feels… well… I don't know."

She stared at him a moment – her expression one he had never seen before. He couldn't read it, and he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Then, she leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Well," she said, her voice a whisper in his ear. "We can do that."

She pushed him back and sat herself on the edge of the bed. She spread her legs wide and brought her feet up flush with her hips. She beckoned him towards her, and as he approached hesitantly, kneeling on the ground between her legs, she hooked her feet up over his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck inside his cowl.

"Was your recon scout this flexible?" she asked, her eyes flashing with mischief.

"She couldn't hold a candle to you," he said fiercely. "In every way."

He meant that. But he didn't want to think about that recon scout. He wanted Shepard. He wanted to be consumed by her – he wanted her to invade his every thought, his every crevice. He wanted only her.

He groaned as he sunk into her again, buried deeply in her folds.

...

Garrus made love to her ardently. Not slowly, but lovingly. His hands traced up and down her back as he thrust against her. The chafing was almost nonexistent in this position, and Shepard felt herself relax into his touch, his passion.

He nuzzled the inside of her knees, flicking his tongue against her skin. His movements began to grow more urgent and he began to murmur her name, his eyes closing as he lost himself inside her.

She marveled at the way she felt. The way he stoked every fire within her. Lust. Passion. Righteous anger. Fierce protectiveness. And a deep, powerful need to live.

He moved in her, pressing into her every sensitive spot. His hands caressed her thighs, her hips, her waist, pulling her into him. It felt so right. All the pieces fit, and she wasn't just talking about the mechanics.

When he opened his blue eyes and looked at her, his focus glassy and clouded with pleasure, she felt her whole body tingle. She felt herself beginning to clench around him, and heard him groan at the sensation.

"S-spirits," he gasped. "You feel so good."

She moaned in response. The way he filled her, the way he moved in her… his soft touches on her skin and his fierce blue eyes fixed on her.

"Garrus," she whispered, his name rolling off her tongue.

He was beginning to shake, from passion and from exertion, and he thrust more deeply into her with every motion. She reached up, pulling him closer, feeling the increased pressure as he pressed her legs against her.

She massaged his fringe, pulling a deep growl from him, and then she was over the edge, crying out in gasps and whimpers as her climax hit her.

Garrus let out a deep, multi-toned moan and she felt him release into her, his back arching as he pressed deeply into her.

They stayed there for a moment, still joined and breathing in deep, shaky gasps.

"Wow," he finally said. "Shepard…"

She reached for him, and he shifted, pulling out of her. They both let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of contact, but Garrus moved himself up onto the bed and lay back against the pillows. He pulled her tightly against him, wrapping her in his warm, strong arms.

They were silent, breathing in unison, her head resting softly on his carapace. She kissed him softly there, letting her lips linger. She didn't want him to let go.

Finally, she said what had been on her mind all evening.

"Garrus, I want you to know that whatever happens after we pass through that relay… I'm yours. If you want me. I'm glad we got these moments."

"The calm before the storm," he murmured.

There was a silence. His hands kneaded her shoulders softly, still holding her close against his chest.

Just as she was beginning to drift into sleep in the warm blanket of his body, he whispered to her.

"I want you. I need, you Shepard. Whatever happens, I'm yours, too."