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She watches the turian’s sleeping form. The rise and fall of his carapace. One quick breath in, followed by a deeper inhale, and then a slow exhale. She’s memorised the staccato rhythm of his heart from the many nights she’s spent with him. One too many nights. Five too many. Ten too many. She has no excuse. No defence other than the turian just knows exactly what to say to her to get her into bed with him.
He started out as her target. Technically, he still is. He keeps escaping. More like she keeps letting him get away. He runs. She tracks him down. They fuck. He disappears before she wakes up. At least, in the beginning he simply disappeared. After their umpteenth rut, she watched him sneak out. Didn’t stop him.
Then the cycle repeats.
He’s not as bad as the stories and the rumours make him out to be. His biggest crime was disturbing the ecosystem of gangs on Omega, but that’s hardly a crime. If anything, it’s a job well done.
She rolls into her side and props herself up on her elbow. Ever so gently, she traces the scarring along his right mandible. It took him a while to open up about what exactly had happened. His downfall as Archangel the vigilante. Yet, he still managed to fend off all three merc groups all on his own. Despite the bodies of his men surrounding him.
She knows they still haunt him.
Her fingers leave his mandible to trace his plates. Over his keel and down his carapace. Past his waist and to his already leaking seam. Having pleasant dreams? She smiles to herself as she teases his groin plates. His hips buck but he doesn’t awaken. She also doesn’t stop. She keeps teasing until his shaft pushes into her hand. She grips it loosely, stroking it and spreading the natural lubricant. Then she rolls on top of him. Straddles him. Lines up his hard cock with her aching entrance and lowers herself onto him. She bites her bottom lip to keep from calling out, but she doesn’t stop until their hips are flush. She takes in a shaky breath as she adjusts to the stretch. Then she leans forward to lay across him. Kisses his keel before resting her head upon his carapace.
From there, she starts grinding against him. Chokes back every little whimper as she uses his cock. His body. Even with such miniscule movements, he still feels amazing. Every ridge stimulates her inner walls perfectly. Plus, his rough hide feels incredible against her. All of him is just so…warm. Her own body also grows warmer as she gets closer to her climax. She sits up just enough to move her hips a little faster. To watch his peaceful face. Although, thinking about the way he snarls when he reaches his own climax is what pushes her over the edge.
She holds her breath as she cums, making a mess of their pelvises and thighs. That doesn’t stop her from grinding against him until her body starts convulsing. She nearly collapses on him once she’s ridden the orgasm out. She does carefully return to laying atop him afterwards. Works on catching her breath. Closes her eyes…
~~~~
The first time they fucked was clumsy and painful. Humans and turians don’t typically seek each other out for sex, so neither of them knew what they were doing. It should’ve been bad enough that neither of them ever wanted to see the other again. Somehow, though, it ended up being the opposite. It left more to be desired. It left her breathless. Twisting and turning as she thought about him in the dead of the night. Touching herself in the dark to the memories of his sneers and growls. The memories of his calloused hide and sharp plates. Never had she cum so hard in her life before meeting him. Before being touched by him.
Soon enough, they barely spoke when they came across each other. They would go straight to ripping their armour off. The sooner they could get naked, the better. She craved him in every manner. Wanted to feel him everywhere. And he was more than willing to satisfy that hunger.
She went as far as to help him track down Sidonis, the one from Omega who had betrayed him. Let him fuck her as a distraction before a bullet went through his head. Poor bastard didn’t even have the chance to finish before he was dead. Then he was there, fucking her in the other turian’s stead, as if the whole scenario had made him jealous. They fucked with the cold body right at their feet.
When they finally left the scene of the crime, they fucked again in the shuttle. Stopped at the closest, nameless station and rented a room to continue fucking.
That was the first time Archangel stayed until morning.
~~~~
She awakens with a gasp. Her back is flat on the mattress and the turian is over her, arms on either side of her head, caging her in. He slowly pulls out of her sticky cunt before thrusting back in and lifting his head to look at her.
“Shepard, you little minx,” he growls. “How many times did you make yourself cum?”
She whines as he slowly thrusts again. “One—once.”
“That’s it?” He hums with dual tones. “I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed in that answer.” He leans down at nuzzles at her neck. “Next time, be loud. That way I can wake up to you screaming my name.”
Next time. She lets out another whine. “Garrus…”
He chuckles darkly. “That’s it. That’s what I like to hear. There’s no better sound than my name on your lips.”
He’s torturing her. Guiding her to the edge and then pulling her back before she can fall over the precipice. Her body is trembling with the denial of her release. White knuckles clutching the—whiter, still—sheets. Garrus hushes Shepard. Murmurs sweet nothings in her ear. His hands trace different patterns and shapes and symbols across her body. Every now and then she feels the softest scratch of his talons. He could easily rip her apart if he wanted to. Hell, he’s pointed a gun at her head before. Not even an hour later, the finger that had been on the trigger was inside her, bringing her pleasure rather than pain.
It’s an overwhelming juxtaposition.
Eventually, his hands slide down to her ass and he lifts her hips off the bed. She gasps as he grinds their bodies together.
“Spirits, you’re so—”
He doesn’t finish his thought. Instead, he growls as he starts pounding into her cunt. She cries out, keeping her hips lifted as she takes every rough thrust. The moment she starts cumming around his cock, he buries himself to the hilt inside her. His cock pulses as he spills deep inside her. Time slows to a standstill as they enjoy each other’s pleasure. Then he pulls out of her and flips her over. Gets her ass up just enough to push his dripping cock back into her sopping cunt.
Nearly the entire weight of his alien body is on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. His keel digs between her shoulder blades, and it’s grounding. Here, it’s just them. Nothing else matters. Nothing can find its way in between. Here, they exist for this.
For lust.
For love.
It’s not love, but sometimes Shepard likes to pretend. She tells herself that there’s depth between them. That she’s more to Garrus than just a warm body.
His teeth release her from her thoughts. They’re at the shell of her ear first, then her neck. Her shoulder. He’s never bitten hard enough to draw blood. To leave a mark. She’s never told him that she wants him to. That would be uncharted territory. Dangerous territory. Because this isn’t love. They’re not that close. It’s not that deep.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathes against her skin. “Jane…”
Her breath catches at his use of her first name. She doesn’t give him a verbal response, though. Just pushes back against his body. He removes himself entirely. She gets on her hands and knees and turns to face him. Crawls into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist as she guides his cock back into her cunt. His arms instantly wrap around her as he leans forward to wrap his tongue around her nipple. Her head drops back with a groan, hands squeezing his shoulders for purchase.
Her entire body jolts when one of his hands drops to their joining, his finger dragging over her swollen clit. He lifts his head, and she presses closer to him. She moves one hand to the soft spot beneath his fringe, massaging the sensitive patch of hide. The other hand cups his damaged mandible, while his free hand covers hers. He presses his brow plate to her forehead and—
This is new.
This is intimate.
They share breaths. Heartbeats. She can see entire galaxies in his hazy blue eyes. And he holds her gaze as he brings her to another climax. Her jaw drops open with a silent scream. He takes this opportunity to snake his tongue out and lick into her mouth. Instinctually, she closes her lips around his tongue. She moans and whimpers as he continues abusing her oversensitive nub.
“One more, Jane,” he speaks against her lips. “One more, because I know you can. Because I can’t get enough of you.”
She presses closer to his body. Buries her face between his neck and cowl. Ruts against him helplessly. Desperately. He trills before letting out a whine of his own. That’s her undoing. She clenches around him as her inner walls spasm and constrict. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight against him as even more of his spend spills into her.
His teeth are at her shoulder.
She feels the hint of pierced skin.
~~~~
After their first encounter, he taunted her. After they started fucking, she had the upper hand. More often than not, he instigated their ruts. She may have spent nights thinking about him, but she was still willing to remain professional first and foremost. Or to at least try. He was not as willing. And he went straight for her waist every time. Grabbing it and pulling her into his body. Caging her against the wall, bed, or whatever surface was closest. It didn’t matter; they could fuck in any position and at any angle.
Soon enough, it was clear she was becoming attached.
With that realisation, she tried to see him less. That wasn’t an easy task, though, considering she was still meant to capture him. He’s dangerous and vile. No. He was careful and far too considerate. Even when they were rough with each other. It was part of his appeal. Part of what drew her to him.
She knew better than to believe they could ever have a life together. A proper, meaningful life. So, she kept that fantasy locked away for her loneliest nights.
Except he could read her mind.
“We should run. Stage a showdown that neither of us survives and just…disappear.”
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t ever considered the same idea before. That’s all it was, though: An idea. It could never be a reality. If they wanted to break this vicious cycle, one of them would have to die. At least, that’s what she would tell herself to keep her hopes at bay. To keep them tamed. Rational.
The fact that he had suggested it, though…
~~~~
Shepard must’ve blacked out from pleasure. When her eyes flutter open, she’s looking at the ceiling. She props herself on her elbows and looks to find Garrus between her legs. His mandibles are covered in her slick. It’s a miracle she’s able to stop herself from shoving his face back down.
“Was I good for you?” she asks instead, voice hoarse.
He smirks in his turian way. “Always.”
She shifts, wincing slightly. She lay back again and reaches for the pain in her shoulder. A bitemark.
Oh.
“I couldn't help myself,” he says, voice soft.
Oh.
She surges forward. Presses her lips to his mouth plates. Their bodies—both hardened in different manners—somehow meld together perfectly. Their arms and legs entangle until there’s no empty space between them.
She fades in and out of consciousness. In and out of reality. Always in pleasure. Never out of satisfaction.
~~~~
The statement kept bouncing around in her head. We should run. Tch. She had a hard time believing he was being sincere. The confession seemed so random, after all. Almost out of place. At the same time, though, it made sense. He had become her driving force. The idea of their next encounter was what kept her going. Plus, there hadn’t been anyone else since their back and forth had begun.
“You want that?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t actually want it. Otherwise, what are we even doing? We can’t keep up this charade forever. People are catching on. I mean, c’mon: The first human Spectre is repeatedly failing at catching the infamous Archangel? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re better than that.”
Hmm. It was getting more and more difficult to explain her sudden…incapability. She wasn’t doing anything different, after all. Except for the fact that she was doing her target. That was certainly different. She couldn’t admit that to the Council, though. Hell, it took her too long to even admit to herself that it was happening because she wanted it.
“You don’t have to let me down easy, y’know. If you don’t want this, I get it. Then just tell me to fuck off. Or you can kill me now because I—”
I’m not sure I can live without you. In fact, I don’t want to live without you.
~~~~
The next time Shepard awakens, she’s flat on her stomach. She remains still, though, as she can feel Garrus tracing patterns across her back. It feels like nonsense, but she’s willing to bet it has meaning.
“Palaveni?” she speaks up.
He pauses before clearing his throat. “Yeah.”
“Can I ask what it means?”
Another pause. “There’s no direct translation.”
She hums softly, not wanting to push him. He continues using her skin as a tapestry. Writing and drawing. The motions are soothing. Comforting. Enough to almost lull her back to sleep.
Except he stops.
She rolls over to face him. Tries to read his inscrutable face. He seems to be eyeing the bitemark on her shoulder. The pain has already faded to a dull sting. There will definitely be a scar, which she has no qualms about.
He lifts his gaze to meet her eyes. Reaches out and threads his fingers through her hair. His talons barely scratch her scalp. She closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. Thinks about the very first time they fucked. Thinks about how they spent so much time nameless to each other. She only knew him as Archangel until he willingly shared his identity with her.
That may as well have been their downfall.
“Garrus.”
He hums with dual tones. Her eyes flutter open and the look in his eyes isn’t just pure lust. It’s more complicated than that, yet so simple all at once. It’s only a word. It can be spoken within the beat of a heart. It doesn’t even have to be audible because it can be felt. And she does feel it. After all these months—these clandestine meetings—there’s no other word for this…thing between them. So why the hell is she still trying to deny it?
“Jane.”
She’s been thinking about what he said the last time they were together. About running away. Abandoning her whole life and everything she knows just for him. To be with him endlessly. Unconditionally. After everything they’ve already been through, it seems foolish to doubt his sincerity. His earnestness. Subsequently, it also seems foolish to turn her back on the idea. Frankly, she’s not sure she could walk away from him if she tried. Not that she would try.
Well, that’s her answer.
“Does your offer still stand?” she asks. He trills softly, countering her question. “Do you still wanna run away?”
His entire body freezes. He then cups her cheek, this time tracing shapes she does recognise. A symbol that has become universal. “Tell me something.” She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Tell me you love me.”
Shepard has spent most of her life on her own. Alone. She’s never loved anyone before. She’s never used those three words. And she’s always been under the impression it could only happen gradually. With Garrus, though, it happened all at once. It crashed around her like a wave and pulled her out to a sea of stars.
There’s no right or wrong way to fall in love. There are no guidelines. No regulations or rules. No preventing it. And it’s not always gentle. For Shepard, it choked her. Strangled her until she cried for the mercy only the turian could provide. A mercy that came from letting herself be vulnerable with him. Nobody ever fell in love without being a little brave. Now she’s perfectly content remaining adrift, never seeing the shore again. Never putting her feet back on the ground. Although, Garrus makes sure to keep her close. To keep her safe. She doesn’t need protection, but she knows he would kill for her.
“There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” she soon speaks up.
His mandibles flutter. He presses his brow plate to her forehead. Nuzzles against her cheek. Gently nips and nibbles along her jawline and down her throat until he reaches the fresh bitemark. He laves his tongue over it, purring loudly.
For a partnership that should be so wrong, their relationship is so very effortless. An equal balance of push and pull. Give and take. They’ve come to know each other inside and out. Every sound she makes. Every divot of his body. Almost as if they were never strangers. As if they came from the same particles of stardust, meant to be reunited.
They’ll live together, and they’ll be free to love together.