#probably something with omni-tool?

[husband-steve-cortez]

The concept that omni-tools can have combat functions locked is an age-old headcanon I've had to get around why guns aren't allow in some places but your killer apple watches are.

Maybe less a "locks combat functions" and more puts a lock on how much energy it can generate/output. Most civilian models either aren't able to fabricate blades or have to be jailbroken to do so, and don't really generate enough power for your incinerate or overloads.

This is more of a like, on the citadel and other secure places type of concept in my mind. Shepard's exempt as a Spectre.

[gatorbites-imagines]

could you do something were one of the mark variants likes ftm reader who has a 1 sided crush on his mark (if that makes sense lol)

bottom/sub reader pls😔

Shiesty Mark x ftm reader 

Drabble 

I just... really like this Mark. The mask does something to me. I also learned that shiesty Mark was inspired by Cole Cash from DC, which is really cool. 

Bit of a mixed bag when referring to readers bits, and hinting at front hole penetration at the end.  

It's been so long since ive written smth like this, so bear with me. 

You hated this fucking city, and country, and probably world. Just because you had powers, because your mom just happened to be some hero, who fucked some government guy, you were expected to keep her legacy. 

Your dad wasn't much of a dad, even less so when your mom kicked the bucket when you were little. Your powers weren't even that impressive, you could make force fields and different shapes with your will, but it was nothing compared to the powerhouses of this world. (imagine like an off-brand green lantern, but without the ring) 

Dear old dad had you trained from the very moment you could walk, and it was clear from a young age that you were not his son, or rather daughter at the time, but an asset. But what else could be expected from the guy that turned your mom's corpse into a reanimen. 

Life was a chore, a drag, you didnt get a social life, it was all about training and becoming a better asset for the GDA, for your so called dad. There were days you wanted to use your powers to just... kill him, to kill everyone.  

Or yourself. Those days were growing more and more common. It made you wonder if your will was so strong you could surpass the human want to survive, and just... take yourself out. 

At least your top surgery and testosterone were given to you for free, like some kind of reward, like the GDA were dangling a carrot, after you had sacrificed so much of yourself with as little as a thank you being given in return. 

It all became a little less shit when Invincible appeared. In the beginning you liked him only because your dad feared him so much, after seeing what omni-man did to the guardians and world.  

Invincible, or Mark, didn't help these blooming feelings. He was just so kind, so willing to help and so determined. He hadn't been crushed under the weight of the universe, of his father's legacy, like many others would have. Like you had. 

You two had worked together on multiple occasions, since you didn't have much of a choice about joining the new guardians.  

Being raised by the government to live as a tool meant your ability to communicate and build relationships was very lacking, so you two never became more than acquaintances, but Invincible still made your heart flutter and your body heat up. 

Maybe that was why it was hard to fight these alternate variants of him. It wasnt like your forcefields and will created tools were much help, as they shattered under the punches and kicks of the Mark variants.  

The Mark variant you had ended up with was an extra rude one, he cursed and spat and growled like some kind of animal. He fought manically, clawing and bloody from all the lives he had taken. Maybe dying wasn't too bad, if you got to die by Invincibles hand. 

That was why you had ripped out the earpiece you always wore, even using your will to shape a little sharp contraption to dig out the one that had been placed under your ear with surgery, a long time ago. 

It could explain why you allowed this veiled Mark passed the multiple layers of glowing green walls, when you let him clasp a bloody hand around your throat, and why you only groaned a little as he slammed you down, the very pavement shattering into rubble. 

“Im getting tired of your fucking lightshow” he snarled, his voice so similar to Marks put different in its roughness. There was a familiar heat pooling in your gut, your thighs clenching together as this Mark variant choked the very life out of you. 

You weren't reaching up to hit him as he choked you, instead gripping onto the veil he wore. Part of you wanted to look him in the eyes as he killed you, so you could at least see the face of the one person who made you feel alive, even if those feelings were never returned. 

Black spots were swimming across your vision, your grip weakening and focus wavering, enough for your green domino mask to disappear in a flicker of green.  

There must have been something in your eyes, as this Mark variant furrowed his brows, his hand loosening just enough for you to gasp in a few breaths of air, ripping the sweet release of death out of your hands once more. 

“Shit, you are into this, aren't you? You disgusting freak” he snarled, a cruel animalistic smirk growing on his lips, Marks eyes widening like a tiger spotting a wounded rabbit. His pupils were blown, but if it was adrenaline or lust, you couldnt be sure.  

One thing was sure, that expression on his face, was never one you would see on your Mark. He would never look so wild, so feral and violent. It made your cock throb and front hole grow wetter than you had ever been before, the inside of your suit growing uncomfortable. 

The Mark variant gave a snarl, grabbing you like a ragdoll and blasting off in some random direction, his veil falling back in place as he did so. 

You weren't sure where you guys ended up, but it was somewhere not destroyed by the invasion. The near-death choking had left you with an aching headache and blurry head, so you ended up just flopping down on the ground Mark threw you on. 

“I love nasty freaks like you. Always aching for dick as much as you ache for pain.” the Mark variant purred, settling between your thighs, his hands strong and tight as they gripped onto them, spreading them apart far enough for it to burn. 

“Fuck, i could break both of these, and i bet you would just beg for more” he groaned out, voice somehow more growly and hotter than before, as he squeezed your thighs, right above your femur. 

“Come on, give me that dick” he chuckled, bending forwards just enough for his veil to move, enough for you to see his hungry shark-like grin, and the way his tongue licked against his teeth. 

There hadn't been much thought in your head about your body this whole time. You had never been very active in that regard, what joy was there in jerking off and exploring when you were always under watch.  

So, you hadn't thought of this Mark variant's reaction when you willed away your suit, just enough for your crotch to be freed, your t-cock hard and filled with blood as your slit oozed. 

Mark stopped for a second, his brow furrowing so visibly you could even see it through his veil, and for a moment you felt something akin to dread. Damn, did you fuck it up? Maybe he was disgusted by it, it was a fear you had of your Mark, that he would think you were a liar, or something. 

That was, until the Mark Variant laughed, his tone like somebody who just won the damn lottery. “Shit, fuck yeah! Spread those fucking legs, open up for me” he cackled, hands pushing at the back of your thighs, almost folding you in half. 

You weren't given much time to reach before he leaned down, his veil almost innocently covering your pubic mound, before his lips closed around your engorged t-cock. 

Your legs kicked at the sudden feeling, a noise leaving you like he had just punched you in the gut. There was no damn finesse in this Marks movements, as his arms kept your folded in half, as he feasted on your slit like a starved animal. 

It was so loud and wet, his tongue and lips pulling you open, sucking, biting and flicking anything he could reach. Mark groaned as if your slit was a five-star meal, his tongue wiggling inside your slit as he released your legs with one of his arms, only so he could pinch and jerk your t-cock in cock cruel movements. 

There was no control over the noises you let out, your hands gripping at his hair, his arms, shoulders, anything, the blank yellow goggles of his veil staring back at you as Mark slurped up all the juices you had gushed out. 

“Ffffuck, I could suck this cunt for days” he gurgled out, even his voice sounded wet from feasting upon you like this. Marks tongue returned to your t-cock, his fingers plunging inside you and fucking back and forth with a speed that had you wailing. 

Not being able to see what was happening only made your legs shake more, your spine arching upwards as he wrenched an orgasm out of you.  

“There we go, god damn, fuck. I wanna see you fucking squirt” Mark panted, his mouth descending back on you as his fingers twisted and worked even faster. He sounded near drunk, almost as much as you as your entire body tensed and jolted from overstimulation. 

But you had nothing against viltrumite strength, and hunger, it seemed. “Come on, come on, on my face, give it” the Mark variant growled, and for a moment, you could imagine it was your Mark, slurping and licking at you like a hound lapping up a puddle.  

The noise you let out must have been loud, as your throat ached from what you could only assume was a scream, or perhaps a screech of some kind. Your entire body felt like jello, as you shivered and shook through what must have been the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced. 

It was difficult to open your eyes, even as Mark dumped your legs back down, letting them splay open to give him a perfect view of your sore reddened cock and slit. 

When you finally succeeded, you almost shut them again. Marks blue veil was soaked, giving it a darker hue. It was so wet that it stuck to his face, draped over the bridge of his nose so you could see his pink wet lips, and his wet tongue as he licked at his chin, trying to lap up the last of your fluids. 

“Shit, might just have to keep you if you keep doing that” the Mark variant chuckled, voice rough as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  

“I'll have to be sure though, might have to make you do it again” Mark borderline giggled, as he ripped the front of his suit, letting his own very large, aching problem, slap against your abdomen.  

“You gonna show me freak? Huh?” the tone was so degrading, but hungry. “Let's see if it's just my mouth you can't resist, or if this works too” Mark groaned, slapping his length against your t-cock, before shuffling down to press it against your hole. 

Maybe it wasn't all bad... and they couldn't say you hadn't distracted one of the invincible variants, so technically you had done more than others at the end of the day. 

[sky-scribbles]

There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.  

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria.  And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

 The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

[favoriteblogonthecitadel]

Heartless. (~540 words)

People have called Shepard many things over the years. Back when she had just enlisted, there were the slurs spat out by grunts with puffed out chests during basic — stupid names meant for FNGs from Earth, easy to nip in the bud by breaking someone’s nose.

The names didn’t get personal until years later, when she finally had a career to speak of; because that only happens by making tough choices, and of course those choices are for civilians and pencil pushers to criticize. Out loud. In public. And right in front of her drink.

Butcher this, barbarian that… and when someone was feeling dramatic, the one that amused her most: heartless. As though the heart had anything to do with doing her job.

But right now, Xiomara lies in bed looking at the man beside her, and thinks that maybe they were up to something.

Kaidan’s profile is barely visible in the dim light of the room. When he breathes, the rise of his chest under her hand allows her to feel his heartbeat… and Shepard feels a silence settle inside her that she hasn’t found in two or twenty years. Something like a sigh of relief, leaving her from the depth of her aching bones. Something like the thought that she could stay here for a long time.

A message on her omni-tool paints a corner of the room in an orange glow — the tenth in the past few minutes. Even with the thing on silent, she’s aware of every notification that has come through since they got into bed. She knows they will keep coming, that something is probably already going to shit in her absence. She also knows that, the moment she figures out what the next crisis is, Kaidan will follow her into it without missing a beat. These days he seems to be there at every turn. To make himself useful, he says in public; to make up for lost time, he says in private.

A message pings again. Shepard keeps her body still as she ponders that making up for lost time also means watching him sleep like this, unbothered, like he did the night before Ilos. She remembers the surprise on his face when he woke up then, blinking and with static in his hair, like actual rest had snuck up on him. It is strange to have a memory from before Alchera come back to her so clearly — but who else would be the reason if not him?

She wants so badly to keep him where he is. It’s selfish and she doesn’t care. She has to at least try.

What ruins most subterfuge work is overthinking one’s movement, making oneself artificially slow. Shepard rises in one quick, fluid move and stands by the bed on her tiptoes, like a teenager sneaking out of the house.

And she waits.

Kaidan shifts in bed. His arm reaches as if looking for something, and Shepard is sure that she’s busted… but then she sees him find her pillow and pull it close, burying his face in it. There is a long, deep breath as she watches him soothe himself back to sleep by hugging something that belongs to her.

There it is again: that feeling in her chest when she remembers that he wants her. A flutter that eases into warmth and makes it harder to leave each time.

She smiles as she steps away.

They can call her what they will when the war is over. She will give up whatever she has to — but not this, not tonight. For that, she doesn’t have the heart.

[stumbleduponbyaksident]

A long time ago I wanted to write a fic about Garrus recruiting all members of his Omega squad. There is no way I am ever finishing that but I found a fragment with Garrus pretending to be a tourist on Omega and trying to *gasp* smoke cigarettes. I think there's nothing funnier than smoking Garrus so have a WIP that will never get out of the WIP phase:

TW: mentions of drug addiction, cartoonishly nasty depiction of a drug dealer

Baltok was born on Omega, raised on Omega, finished school on Omega, married on Omega – went to Illium for honeymoon, it was quite lovely – raised his children on Omega, divorced on Omega and married once again on Omega. He knew this rock better than his own upper left eyelid, he knew its twists and turns better than Aria – bah! – better than Patriarch even! So when Baltok took a look at the Gozu plaza and thought he spotted a tourist, he knew he spotted a tourist.

When they were on their own, they always did everything to seem like locals, just as extranet guides to main dark tourism places of interest recommended. Baltok didn’t really know why – were they scared of being snarled at? Baltok couldn’t remember a day on Omega when he didn’t get to be snarled at. Were they scared of being pickpocketed or scammed? That was preferential treatment they should all strive for. If you have enough creds to treat yourself with such doubtful pleasure as a trip to this shithole, you probably have some family willing to investigate if you disappear. If you live here, since the day you were born, just as Baltok does, probably no one meaningful cares.

So this dumb tourist, this turian, turned his omni-tool on, pretending to check something on the extranet, thinking no one noticed he was actually taking pictures of the vista. Baltok closed all his four eyes with a huff, mentally preparing to deal with another hour of playing nice. It usually took some time with the turians to finally get them to admit that yes, they want to have some damn fun. But once they got their fun, they usually stayed. Forever. Coming back to eat from Baltok’s hand every month, then every week, then every day – and sometimes even a few times a day.

Baltok wasn’t racist by any means, but there was something exhilarating about seeing these high and mighty assholes crouching back to him in pain, begging for another fix, even if it gradually made their honor and pride evaporate, their hard scales go soggy as a sponge and their sharp teeth fall out. Baltok liked to see people of all races and genders fall on their knees before him, offering him their life-savings for the dirtiest fix of the most unfiltered swill they’ve ever experienced – but there was something special about turians.

Oh, if he only ever encountered a krogan tourist! He once had a dream about it, so vivid and real, he woke up sobbing. But alas – no krogans for him. They knew to supply themselves in the Blood Pack.

The turian was scrolling through some extranet page mindlessly, probably thinking he looks oh-so-just-a-local-waiting-for-someone but Baltok knew – suspected, really, but he could bet a lot on it – that the guy was looking for a place to eat. Because if he asked someone, they would surely direct him to the closest joint serving poison instead of drinks! Stupid overcautious turian tourists. Or stupid not-cautious-enough human tourists, come to think of it.

Baltok took last puff of his cigarette and put it out with his foot. He crossed the plaza, pretending to be a little unsure and a little intimidated, maneuvering around the passerbyes, until he reached the vista, just a few steps from the turian who surely noticed him and surely was about to pass out from stress of being executed in the public plaza.

“Hey, you’re new here, right?”

There it was – sharp straightening of back, head raised high, attempting to seem in control while Baltok knew how fast the gears in turian’s head were turning to come up with an answer.

“Yeah, had to pick up a few parts. My mate should be back with them in a minute or two.”

It was the answer recited point by point from the conversation pattern recommended on dark tourism forums. Pretending they’re here out of absolute and inconvenient necessity? Check. Pretending they are on their way out and someone expects them? Check. Pretending they are not alone while also giving up absolutely unnecessary details of their life? Check. Baltok smiled, betting the turian couldn’t even tell.

“What damn parts could be so important for you to stop at this rock?”

The turian laughed shortly, nervously.

“Yeah, I wasn’t happy about it, either. But our ship’s thrusters started to overheat so fast, we had no choice but to take a break here.”

Baltok didn’t know shit about ships but he appreciated the technical detail. He nodded his head in a way that could be taken as understanding.

“You fly some dreadnought?”

“I wish! But no, we deliver packages. Nothing fancy but we get by.”

“So where are you headed now?”

“Citadel.”

Baltok almost chuckled. It was always the Citadel as if the Council itself was about to step in if one scratch appeared on the poor soul’s precious skin.

“Nice. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. Go there often?”

“Not as often as I’d like to but – you know. Wherever credits call, I follow.”

They could even go for a beer. If the guy meants any word of that.

“So, word of advice if you actually want to get to that Citadel of yours,” Baltok went for a little rude, knowing that nice man on Omega is even more suspicious than honest man on Omega. “This is Blue Suns territory. You don’t want to be seen talking to any krogans, vorcha and asari. And certainly not carrying any packages for anyone, no matter how many creds are in it.”

“Oh. Yeah. S-sure.”

“Don’t get all panicky. I’m a friendly face. I can show you around the biggest attractions here if you want to.”

“Iii’m not… I mean, thank you but…”

“I bet you’ve heard the tales of Omega, right? You think I’m going to take you to the dark alley and shoot you?”

The turian’s mandibles huddled tight to his jaw and his gaze was anywhere but on Baltok’s face. Baltok grinned, lighting up a triumphant smoke.

“That wouldn’t make a lot of sense, would it? We like creds, too, my friend…?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the turian gave up his generic – too generic to be true – name like a crucial piece of info about him.

“Venari.”

“…Venari. Anyway, you look like someone who has a few creds to spend and I know just where to do it in order to support our group’s mighty cause of protecting the citizens and visitors of this rock.”

The threat was veiled not only in words but in the package of cigarettes Baltok presented to the turian. He looked at them like a virgin opening a Fornax issue.

“I-“ he stuttered and Baltok smiled even wider. The stuttering was a promising premise before all the begging and the ping of credits transfer arriving. “I, of course, would like to… But I don’t have that many credits…”

“I’m sure we’ll work something out. Now, what is it that you want? Drinks? Dancing? Betting? Girls? Boys? Games? Fights? Something else entirely?”

The turian finally took the cigarette, his hands almost shaking and yet – miraculously – catching the lighter Baltok tossed midair. He didn’t need to squat down to find it on the ground, all flustered and humiliated. Disappointing.

“I think the drink would be nice,” the turian said half-absently, trying to figure out how the batarian lighter works.

“Sure thing. I know just the place. Your mate’s joining us?”

The turian’s head snapped to attention just the way Baltok expected.

“No. M-maybe later. I’ll message her to meet us if she… feels like it.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m Baltok, by the way. You’re lucky you met me – not everyone on this rock is that friendly.”

“I… heard the rumors.”

Baltok chuckled.

“So let’s go for that drink. Nothing’s free though, you know? Am I going to get my lighter back?”

“Venari” chuckled, too, before putting the cigarette right in the middle between his lipplates and litting it up, inhaling so hard Baltok saw his chest rise.

What followed was a cannonade of coughing, choking and apologies interrupted by some more coughing and choking that was honestly the best spectacle Baltok could ever hope for. He was going to have a good time with this kid. Maybe even better than with Meirin.

[lilmissnatcat24]

i'll break my own heart, thanks

[SYSTEM UI]: Garrus Vakarian, your message you recorded twelve hours ago is slated to be sent now. If you wish to edit or delete your message, press (x). If you do not act in ten minutes, the message will be sent. Read your transcripted voice message here: 

Hey mom, hey dad. Uh, I know you’re probably sleeping right now. Time zones and all. Don’t worry about me. I, uh… I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with what’s been happening over here for me. The news and all. I don’t know if it’s even reaching Palaven. They may want to censor it. Anyways, it’s bad. And it’s about to get a lot worse, I think. I made some friends, we think we can stop it. It’s… it’s actually a pretty funny group. We have an Alliance Captain and a Commander. We have an asari scientist, an expert on the Protheans. And dad, remember Urdnot Wrex? He’s here, too. Which I know may not inspire heaps of confidence, but that’s not the point. I might be going dark for a while. If you don’t hear from me, I, uh, wanted to tell you two… that I… I mean to say… Ugh, nevermind. I’m not going to do that. You already know that, don’t you? I wanted to tell you something else. You’ll like this, mom. I met someone. And I think I love her. I mean, I know I love her. She’s been here since the beginning of this whole mess. And she’s C-Sec, big Alliance hero. You’d like that, dad. At least, if you don’t mind the fact that she’s human. I don’t think you should, you always said you thought humans were a funny species… Anyways, we got tickets to come home. I want you to meet her. And I want to spend time with you, all of you, as a family. Tell Sol to drop by, and bring whatever fool she’s dating this week. I want to do a big dinner, like what we did when dad would get his annual leave. Of course, we need to figure out how to cook levo foods, but that’s beside the point-- [unintelligible] What? Okay, I’ll be right there. Anyways, I need to go. I know this got a little winded, but I wanted to say… thanks. I’ll see you guys soon. Hopefully. 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have marked the message for deletion. It will be in your Trash folder for the next thirty days. 

[SYSTEM UI]: Welcome to your Trash folder! All messages in here will be-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have marked all for deletion. If you wish to undo-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: Welcome to your Settings! For help with-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: You have deleted your Messages App. To view the backups of your files, please-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: Careful, there! Excess temperatures may slow the performance of your Nexus Omni-tool-- 

[SYSTEM UI]: For the safety of your device and your skin, your Nexus Omni-tool will now shut off. 

[astorythatwritesitself]

OC Meme - Adrian Shepard

Nobody asked for this, but y'all are getting it anyway because I saw @omniblades-and-stars & @stormikins do this and it looked fun, so!

(By @valkblue & @eluvisen respectively!)

GENERAL

Name: Adrian Olivier Shepard 

Alias(es): Addy (from her family), and ofc the usuals via Alliance/Normandy crews (Shep/Shepard/Commander)

Gender: That's something to think about in peacetime 🫠 Just kind of runs with whatever others perceive; defaults to she/her pronouns. (Adrian's somewhere in the transmasculine range, and did pursue some some body modification during college - but all of that just dropped the fuck off after Akuze & then… like. -gestures @ everything that happens + Lazarus undoing a few things & she didn't intend on living long enough for it to matter any more-) 

Age: 28 - 32, depending on game. (Although she's also had the fun questions, post-Lazarus, about how exactly to quantify that...)

Place of Birth: SSV Toronto, during a stint in the Exodus cluster. 

Spoken Languages: English, smatterings of Quebecois French, Spanish & Russian, surprising fluency in Galactic Standard (aka the ever-evolving pidgin of Citadel space). 

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual with very limited instances of romantic interest.

Occupation: Commander in the Alliance Navy (if we want to get really technical: a special operations saboteur/data gatherer - she wanted to be a medic or get into diplomatic relations, but like hell anyone was letting a biotic stay on the sidelines entirely)/Citadel Spectre.

FAVORITE 

Color: Indigo blue

Entertainment: Music, books - not all that big on shows/movies, with the notable exception of a couple medical dramas.

Pastime: Swimming, upgrading/hacking omni-tools, poetry memorization/recitation (all-time fave/longest she can do from memory is The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock), model ship building, galactic politics, collecting rock & mineral samples from various planets she's been to, photography.

Food: Toss-up between Blast-Oh’s and seaquats (nickname for a Kajhe-native spiny pink & white ocean fruit, size & shape is similar to a kumquat. Taste is vaguely briny, then very sweet).

Drink: Masala chai.

Books: The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe (The Black Cat is her favorite story of his, Annabelle Lee is her favorite poem), For She Is The Krogan Queen: The Legacy of Shiagur.

HAVE THEY 

Passed University: Went through & passed an Alliance military college - majored in cybersecurity, though she still took a few classes relating to paramedicine.

Had Sex: Yes

Had Sex in Public: Not yet. 

Gotten Tattoos: Got a stylized thresher maw tattoo after Akuze - the body segments were done using the names of the lost unit; she was /not/ happy to see it gone after waking up in the lab.

Gotten Piercings: No

Had a Broken Heart: The better question is if it's ever not been kinda broken, tbh. There's a lot of disillusionment & heartache as she grows up & starts her career - she moves around a lot, so getting attached to anyone will go and hurt (and keeping herself distant hurt just as much, just in different ways). Her parents are both career military - one ground and one medical, she's always surrounded by talk of loss and death; not to mention the just... slow motion trainwreck that is their relationship. She loses her unit, loses the man she was just falling in love with, sees humanity and the galaxy at large pushed to the brink...

And we uh. We're just not going to talk about how she reacts, in the canon!verse, to losing Thane, Mordin & Legion.

Been in Love: Yes - there's a couple probable cases earlier in her life (notably Kaiden Alenko), but Thane's the first person she can definitively say she's fallen in love with.

ARE THEY

A cuddler: Y'know how after being malnourished for long enough, someone has to start so very slowly to be able to eat again? Yeah, Adrian /was/ a cuddler, but it takes a long time to get back there.

Scared easily:

She is so very scared. So very much of the time. There's so many people depending on her and so many bad things that can, will, and have happened if she fucks up, and her fear of doing that again is what keeps her going. Totally sustainable, right?

Jealous easily: Nah. 

Trustworthy: Mostly - but she's pragmatically minded enough that she is willing to use what she knows to her advantage, if the situation calls for it. When it comes to the battlefield though, oh god yes. Ever since Akuze - she'll be first in and last out, no matter what, as long as she has any say in the situation.

FAMILY 

Siblings: Yes, though they show up… way later in her life lmao. Her parents divorce, dad gets together with a turian doctor, & they adopt a couple kids . Due to Shenanigans involving said dad pretty much totally changing his first and last name, said kids don't quite realize their new big sibling is That Commander Shepard until she shows up for the holidays. She also considers Grunt something of a little brother.

Parents: Alive and (relatively) well, all throughout the series - in the standard canon, they actually far outlive her.

Hannah Shepard was from a career military family, while Adrian Alexander Bishop was a foster kid who needed a med degree. They were both in the RMC at Kingston when the Prothean data cache was uncovered and joined the Alliance together as soon as humanly possible, honored to be among the first of humanity to explore the stars, and eager to leave what legacy they can.

 Their marriage is a fucking disaster and only held up as long as it did because Hannah was often gone for quite a while on postings - they're functionally separated by the time Adrian's in high school; divorced not long after Hannah's actions on Torfan.

Children: Never intended on having kids in any capacity, but she does wind up a step-parent to Kolyat. (For the first couple years while everyone's adjusting to things, it's fucking hilarious to see just how deeply uncomfortable they both get when reminded of this fact.)

Pets: Fairly successful at keeping fish. (Also has an extensive menagerie of pet rocks).

[omegastation]

How do omni-tools work? In ME1, they're equipment and don't get used much in-game cinematics or cutscenes. To be fair, I chalk that up to the property being new.

But in 2 onwards, they seem to be almost cybernetic. People make a gesture and all of a sudden, they have an omni-tool. Even people who aren't outfitted in armor or military gear.

I figured in 1 they were a device fastened to a bracer or gauntlet, or some other article of clothing or armor. But that doesn't really seem to be the case.

The codex tells us that omni-tools "are handheld devices that combine a computer microframe, sensor analysis pack, and minifacturing fabricator."

In the novels, the device is pulled from pockets and belts so they're fairly small. I think it's about what is practical for the person using them: a form of wristband might be easier when it comes to specific tasks (scanning, hacking, etc). It might help to think about we use tech. Recently I was typing on my phone with both hands, something I never usually do, and it was strange enough that I noticed. I'm also right-handed. If I were to use the omni-tool, it would be in my pocket for safekeeping or tied to my wrist and I would use my right hand to access the screen. Someone else might use it another way. So the tool can definitely be tailored to the person using it. It's just that soldiers on the battlefield can't be looking for it.

And speaking of the screen, that's probably what you mean by "suddenly they have an omni-tool". The omni-tool is the device itself, but just like the Ipad is an object, what occurs on the screen is what gets our attention. Since the omni-tool is so common in that universe, I guess I sometimes forget how powerful it is, with projecting images/hacking/repair/videotaping/etc. The wiki lists all the fonctions here. There are modules inside the omni-tool, so a lot can be done with it.

I also like this part from the Mass Effect Andromeda codex "Pathfinder omni-tools take design inspiration from the models used by salarian intelligence services, prioritizing the computer microframe to allow lag-free scanning and AI support." We can only imagine what the salarian are doing with their omni-tools!!! And we know the Alliance worked on their omni-tools to adapt melee combat. In the game itself you get access to advanced models that you can equip.

So I don't think the omni-tool itself is cybernetic, it's just that it's Mass Effect. The Lazarus Project and everything else that was alluded to in the trilogy and CDN might mean some people will do a lot of things to use and adapt tech like this.

[innepttia]

@spookyvalentine has FOUR sets of “50 questions about Shepard” list and this is the third!!

Maeve Shepard

First 50 Questions | Second 50 Questions

TW: mentions of alcohol abuse & canon typical death

(Art by tumblr: @/milton-chamberlain)

1. How often does Shepard use the omni-blade?

Omni-blade, not a lot but it’s her favorite weapon to use (ok I know this is contradictory but just go with me). Omni-tool – ALL THE TIME.

2. What does the Virmire Survivor think of Shepard?

Ashley! I think she wishes they were closer, because they really would get along if they both gave it a shot. If Shepard didn’t die, they’d probably have become besties at some point and perhaps Shepard could have still soothed over some of that xenophobic nature of Ashley’s.

3. Top three comfort movies:

Howl’s Moving Castle

Princess Bride

Shallow Grave

4. How many languages can they speak (without the translator)?

Oh, I love that Spooky has asked this in the Mass Effect discord we’re in because I already know the answer now!!

English, ASL (which doesn’t really count for translator-use), and – in my own HC – spacers have a language similar to The Expanse’s Belter Creole.

5. Does Shepard keep a log/journal?

No. Which is a boring answer, but no.

6. What kind of driver is Shepard?

I like to HC that she actually would rather have others drive so she can tinker with something. So, instead of driver, she’s a passenger princess.

7. Shepard witnesses a petty crime. What is their response?

She ignores it! Maeve really cultivates an air of: “If this doesn’t affect me, then I don’t care.”

8. Revenge, or the high road?

REVENGE, BABEEYYYYY – but only in her head because she’s a busy lady and doesn’t have time to really properly act out her revenge.

9. What will always distract them?

Thane, Thane, Thane, Thane, alcohol, Thane, Thane, Joker, Thane, Thane, Thane, etc.

10. Does Shepard ascribe to any sort of faith?

No, but she becomes interested in Thanes.

11. Fondest childhood memory?

By ME2, she isn’t sure her childhood memories are really hers, so she tries to forget them.

12. Most embarrassing adult memory?

In ME2, before Thane’s romance was locked in, she got so drunk one day and drunk-messaged Ashley trying to flirt with her. Then when that was completely rejected, she went straight to Zaeed to try and flirt with him, but she became so distracted in the garbage compactor that she missed her one chance with that old merc. Joker was 100% watching the vid feeds and EDI was monitoring her messages to Ashley.

13. What does Shepard choose to do about Gavin Archer?

THIS mothafuckin guy THIS GUY ohhhhh my god. I think canon choice was “your brother is going to Grissom Academy and you can fuck right off” but the unhinged, more correct choice is: iron pressed against his temple and ending it all then and there for Gavin.

14. Is Shepard the type to gossip?

If it’s gossip with Kasumi, yes, because Kasumi has the best tea and tells the best story. Anyone else, probably not.

15. How does Shepard react to Garrus’s Archangel reveal?

I’m just going to go with the canon-neutral reaction.

16. What was the N7 program like for Shepard?

This was when she was A Good Soldier and A Good Person (pre-ME1), so it went pretty well, all things considered. She was focused and driven and wanted to be the best she could be.

17. Go-to karaoke song?

ANOTHER ONE I CAN ANSWER BECAUSE OF DISCORD thank god. This song because it’s mostly shouting instead of singing:

Fire Woman – The Cult

18. What choice does Shepard make on Rannoch?

Okay so, this one might get me a lot of hate BUT I’ve always accidentally (I’m so serious about this) picked the option here Tali throws herself off the cliff. Like, I’m not joking. It doesn’t matter how many years are between play throughs, or if I’m like, OKAY THIS TIME…!!! I always manage to pick that option. In an AU, I’d really like for the Geth and the Quarians to make peace and build the planet together and I’m just inept at making Good Choices.

19. Which kind of reaper do they think is the ugliest?

That stupid Human-Reaper from ME2.

20. Can they dance?

She can sway to music really well.

21. What is Shepard’s relationship with Hackett?

Mostly annoyed at him. In her eyes, Hackett is up there with TIM.

22. What’s their alignment? Paragon, renegade, a mix…

Renegade all the way. Light up her face with scars.

23. Got any allergies? How bad?

No, because I honestly just won’t remember she has them.

24. When’s their birthday, and how old are they?

Canon birthday and canon age!

25. Trash talk or potty mouth

BOTH!

26. What’s their temper like?

Flares hot, but then it dies down pretty quickly because she’s either smothering it with alcohol or she’s already moved on to the next crisis.

27. What does Shepard think of Bakara?

EVEEEE and not my clone named Eve!!!!! She adores her and will do anything for her.

28. A reoccurring nightmare:

Indoctrination. She can’t shake the feeling that, even after everything, she’s indoctrinated.

And Moon’s Haunted fic.

29. Which news correspondent/journalist does Shepard bring on the Normandy? What’s their relationship like?

Diana Allers and it’s a relationship of: Maeve forgets she’s there until Diana reminds her.

30. Who’s got the biggest crush on Shepard?

Ummm ME!!! Hmm definitely Joker in all 3 games, Garrus in 1 and 2, (and finally a HC) the Geth (and OC) she messages all throughout ME3.

31. What kind of relationship do they have with Dr. Chakwas? Which doctor do they bring her on board for 3, and why?

Good! They’re drinking buddies, except Dr. Chakwas is obviously less unhinged about it.

32. Who has Shepard’s grudging respect?

Javik & Zaeed.

33. Reaction to the window over their sr-2 bed

Kill Bill sirens.

34. Does Shepard want children?

Not just no, but hell no.

35. What does Shepard consider their greatest mistake?

Joining the Alliance.

36. Did Shepard enjoy the heists with Kasumi?

Yes, this was her favorite mission. I think I mentioned this in one of the previous 50 questions, but she was excited for the heist. She was excited to dress up and to have even the slightest potential to not kill anyone.

37. Does Shepard ever play matchmaker?

Ngl, I like Liara and Javik together so I’d like to imagine she helped with that somehow.

38. A silly daydream:

While she was on house arrest after ME2 and before ME3, she daydreamed that Joker would come visit her and they’d rekindle whatever they had before.

Or, she’d imagine Thane would come rescue her like a damsel in distress.

(god these aren’t really “silly” are they?!)

39. What kind of media do they consume the most?

Tech news, but she’s pretty off mainstream media content. She prefers to spend time with her crew in person.

40. Favorite ice cream flavor

Cookies and cream.

41. If Shepard has a LI, what would they say are a couple of Shepard’s flaws? And strengths?

I think we all like to imagine our LI’s being over the moon about our Sheps, and my HCs are no different.

Thane sees her as the spitting image of one of his goddesses. She’s strong, relentless, ruthless, and determined, which are all qualities he admires. In private, she’s soft and a puddle of mush most of the time. I like to think he enjoys taking care of her (e.g. blanket over the shoulders, a good cuddle session, sharing food).

Her flaws come through pretty starkly in all these sets of 50 questions: she can make REALLY poor choices, she can get tunnel vision on certain missions, she can be too brash.

42. Are they quick to laugh, or slow to smile?

Okay, I’m probably going to be annoying with this but I’m going to say both to this one too (like the potty mouth or trash talking one). I think she’s quick to laugh, but it isn’t always genuine. She’ll laugh when she feels like there’s a social cue she needs to meet. She’s slow to smile because those would be her true, genuine feelings.

43. What does it take to earn Shepard’s trust?

Most people have her trust from the beginning. She doesn’t feel like she has time to be untrusting, so her initial trust is easy to get. As long as that isn’t broken, then all’s golden. If the initiate trust is broken then it’s near impossible to get it back.

44. Top three people Shepard thinks are hotties:

Samara

Nyreen

Zaeed

+Thane because he’s her Li so that’s a given

45. What’s the easiest way to gross them out?

Throw up. THAT’S ALL hahahaha but fr gross.

46. What are some of their favorite combo moves with team members out on the field?

Oooohh this is embarrassing for her and me. I always forget team members and Shepard can do combo moves together, so I never do it. So lets go with: she’s a lone wolf who likes to do her own tech combos herself.

47. Can they forgive easily, or are they the type to hold a grudge?

Neither! She’d rather just forget.

48. Does Shepard have a good sense of direction?

She relies solely on her HUD that she doesn’t know anymore!

49. Did they enjoy their party on the Citadel?

Yes, it was nice getting everyone together, but she really missed Thane.

50. What is Shepard’s ending?

Maeve, beloved, goes full destroy ending, which includes destroying herself. I’ve talked about this a lot in the server so I’m not going to get too much in the weeds but… she’s very content with this choice.

+1 …got any kinks?

*looks back at question 33* yes – a choking kink whoops

[writtenjewels]

Day Four: Hegemony

CW: Mentions of slavery

Every night, Nekul would look at the stars and imagine what was out there. Her father would tell her stories from his trading routes, but they never felt like enough. No matter how good he was at describing things, it could never compare with actually seeing it all with her own eyes. One day she was going to leave batarian space and see it all herself.

She never told her father this. The idea would horrify him. Their corner of the galaxy was safe and protected, guided by the wisdom of the Hegemony. Nekul and her friends were all taught about the borders and the ships stationed there to keep everyone where they belonged. Father told her about them, too; sometimes his trading routes took him close by, though of course he never ventured beyond.

Nekul knew about the batarians who were out there in other parts of the galaxy. The other kids in her class whispered about them: pirates, mercenaries, slavers, all trying to make something of themselves. Nekul understood that desire. She knew she would never achieve anything of significance if she stayed home. There was a place the Hegemony deemed appropriate for herself and her family. They couldn't be right, though. Not when Nekul was drawn to the stars.

One night she sneaked out to the slave compound. Her father took her here once to show her where the merchandise was kept before being transported to the owners. It was the only place Nekul knew of where species other than batarians lived.

The lock was not very complex, taking only a few minutes to hack through the code before she could get inside. Enough to keep in the slaves, who would have no access to an omni-tool. Nekul let herself inside. The slaves were all sleeping, or at least were curled up and looked asleep. Nekul stared at them, trying to remember what they were all called.

Humans were the most populous group, but she could see a few salarians, drell, and even a handful of turians. Nekul wished her education gave her more information on these species. When she got older, she would likely be instructed on how to care for slaves. For now, there was only thing that was important about them: they came from outside.

Nekul approached one of the drell. It stared at her with its wide, black eyes. She had seen the faces of the slaves before and still found them odd. How did any of them see with only two eyes?

“Who are you?” the drell demanded. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what's out there,” Nekul answered. “Tell me about the stars.”

“Why should I?”

The question surprised her. She thought this part would be easy. This was just a slave, after all, and was supposed to follow orders. Nekul opened her mouth, ready to remind this creature of its place. But she stopped herself. Why should I have to stay here? Why should I take this job? Why should I listen to the Hegemony? All the questions that ran through her mind. She understood then that this drell and all the other slaves probably wanted the same thing she did.

“If you tell me, I'll set you free.”

[zet-sway]

Fanfic: Ocean's Prayer

Or, Thane is a dom for hire.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY SPICY TIMES

Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~13000

Featuring ART by @messydiabolical!!

She reached for her omni-tool and read over Thane's proposal again. His final summary promised new experiences, intimacy so deeply indulgent that he actually warned her that her standards might be permanently rearranged. He had even included the words "fucked within an inch of your life." She could practically read it in his voice, could almost feel his weight pressing down on her, kissing his venom into her mouth. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Shepard heard a voice shout from across the bar. A pretty asari waved a lavender hand as she approached. 

“Piper! It’s so good to see you again! And look what you’ve done with your hair. It looks great!” she said as she pulled Shepard in for a tight hug. “Come sit, come sit.”

Shepard let her lead the way to a table for two and set a gift bag down, summoning a warm smile even though she felt like hell. “I was traveling on Earth and thought of you.” 

Ruby, Shepard’s date, was dressed sharply in a pretty, thigh-length dress that showed off strappy heels and a teasing amount of cleavage. Her nails were lacquered in gleaming silver with white tips, eyes wreathed in smokey makeup that complimented her markings. By all accounts, a gorgeous person. 

Even so, Shepard had little taste for this preamble.

Shepard’s name wasn’t Piper, and her date’s name was probably not Ruby. The neat little gift bag sitting on the table contained a sum of credits for the escort sitting across from her. Shepard was getting laid tonight.

She had come with glowing reviews, a promise to give Shepard a night she would remember. All Shepard wanted was to get her brains fucked out. Preferably by someone dependable, in case she wanted to hook up again in the future. Instead, she was ad-libbing false answers to questions about her life, under the pretense of “getting to know each other.”

She tried to hide her impatience - Ruby was friendly, a little sultry, and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and Shepard supposed that was the draw of this kind of thing. A lot of people, she’d been told, sought a personal connection to complete the experience. The trouble was, what could she say? That she was on a life-or-death mission to save the world? 

"You mentioned you were in the reserves. Why'd you leave?"

Shepard half chuckled and half coughed. “Injured on the job,” she said with a shake of her head. 

Ruby nodded. “Sorry to hear, must've been bad if they let you out early."

Shepard downed the rest of her drink. "Bad enough that I'd rather not talk about it."

“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” Ruby, placing a warm hand over Shepard’s loosely clenched one. “How about we go somewhere a little quieter?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sex was good, at least. 

Ruby had, indeed, fucked her brains out. But as Shepard settled back into her own bed aboard the Normandy that night, she couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. Some part of her left unsatisfied in a way she had difficulty explaining. The whole affair had been such an obvious attempt to make her feel like a normal human being. And though Shepard was blessed with many skills, pretending she had 'normal problems' was not one of them.

Unable to sleep, she flicked on her omni-tool, its orange glow near blinding in the darkness, and decided to respond to her follow-up questions. Ravishing Rendezvous, Inc definitely laid it on thick. They wanted her business, and they weren’t shy about it. She settled into her pillows as she opened the questions.

On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate your experience?

A solid three out of five. Mood and atmosphere? Two out of five. Intimacy? Four out of five - minus one star because she really did not want someone moaning a fake name again. Ruby herself? Five out of five. 

Help us curate your next experience by answering the following yes or no questions:

More human, or less human?

Definitely less human. She had slept with humans before and she didn’t need a live visual comparison to remind her of all the weird shit going on in her own body. She had hoped an asari companion would be far enough off to satisfy her. She had only been partially right. 

More romantic, or less romantic? 

Maybe less? She wasn't sure. Romance was unfamiliar territory, but she definitely didn't want roses or chocolate or… whatever people defined as romantic in galactic space.

The next one made her raise an eyebrow. 

More masculine, or more feminine?

She hesitated, thought about choosing "no comment," but reconsidered. Masculine didn’t have to mean male - although she wasn’t opposed to the idea.  

A new question appeared on her screen.

More dominant, or more submissive?

Shepard let her arm flop back on the bed as she thought about it. Submissive would imply she wanted to take the lead. It wasn’t a bad idea, but she worried she would come on too strong. Did Ravishing Rendezvous just have the perfect individual waiting in the wings for 200+ pounds of reconstructed Alliance marine to come crashing into them? Someone who would bear the brunt of her energy while also making sure they came out satisfied too? Some people get off on this, she reminded herself. But Shepard, more so than anything, didn’t have the mental energy to place the entirety of a stranger's satisfaction in her hands - she already spent her days worrying about everyone but herself. No, she wanted someone who would take charge.

She tapped her finger on “dominant.” It seemed like a move in the right direction.

Are you interested in viewing our BDSM specialists?

Shepard blinked a few times and squinted, wanting to be sure she read the question right.

She’d been fucked roughly before, but never dominated. Never tied up or bossed around, never controlled. The idea wasn’t familiar but the potential challenge was exciting. Like dropping into combat on a planet she’d never been to and coming back covered in sweat and stinking of eezo. Or navigating all the pain and adrenaline and exhaustion of her N7 promotion - being brought low and forged anew on the other side. 

Taking a deep breath, she pressed “Yes."

What followed were a handful of questions to gauge her interests and experience, before finally displaying for her a list of names and faces. 

To say there were some interesting options was an understatement. More turians than she could count, a couple of krogan and asari, and even one or two quarians. There were a few smug-looking human men that she immediately thumbs-downed. 

One person, however, caught her attention right away.

Enter a world of fathomless pleasures…

You know him as Ocean’s Prayer, the legend behind Fornax's renowned kink publication. Thane Krios has stepped out of the shadows for a one-on-one affair you’ll never forget. With a wide range of specialties ranging from softcore bondage to your most craven fetishes, Sere Krios offers a handcrafted experience tailored to your heart's secret desires. One taste of his venom and you’ll never be the same again.

Exclusions apply. In-person consultation required. Discretion guaranteed. 

Shepard sucked in a breath, staring at the image of an emerald-colored drell with a deep crimson throat. A striking three-quarter turn portrait framed him at waist height against a black background, bright light deepening the interesting divisions that decorated his forehead, drawing her eyes to the glossy scales and velvety folds of his cheek. He wore a simple, low-cut shirt that showed off his thick arms and strong, broad chest. Even things that would have been understated on any other person were impossible to look away from because he was just so different.  Colorful and serene, but radiating a strength of confidence that Shepard desperately wished to reclaim for herself. 

And not only was he gorgeous, he also came highly recommended, and his profile was heaped with stellar ratings. 

She whistled when she saw his base fee. Fuck it. Cerberus was paying anyway. Christ, she didn’t think she’d ever seen a drell in person.

She bit her lip and sent off a contact request.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His office was located on the 35th floor of Three Nerium Plaza, a skyscraper on the southern end of Nos Astra.

Shepard waited in the elevator with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her leather jacket. She’d been in all manner of stressful meetings before, but somehow even her appearance before the damn council hadn’t made her this antsy. She checked her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored back wall, straightening her jacket, unzipping it to just above the center of her chest. Should she have worn something less casual? Was it a stupid idea to reveal herself as the Commander Shepard?  This was ridiculous. She’d already fussed an inordinate amount for what was only a preliminary meeting.

The elevator opened into an underwhelming carpeted lobby, thankfully devoid of any other people. The directory led her down a series of hallways to the opaque walnut door of “T. Krios Consulting Services” - a neat little turn of phrase that could mean anything on Illium - beyond which was a waiting room, of sorts. Comfortable-looking chairs sat empty beside a wall lined with real, paper books with worn spines and interesting titles. Shepard fidgeted as she looked around the room, unsure what she expected in the first place. There was only one door, presumably leading to his office. Finally, her Omni-tool lit up with a soft ping, and she slowly opened the door. 

His voice was the first thing that hit her as she entered a stunningly minimalist corner office. 

“Good evening," he greeted with a smile, stepping out from behind a gleaming onyx desk and extending a hand. “You must be my 8 o'clock appointment.” 

She could practically feel every syllable in her bones. Wow.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Krios,” she said with confidence she didn’t quite feel. His scaled palm was warm against hers, fingers gripping tight in a way that drove her heart rate just a little higher. He was shorter than she expected but possessed a larger-than-life quality in a black vest with a collared shirt beneath, the first three buttons of which were undone to arrange the material around his neck and upper chest. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

"Just Thane, if you don’t mind. Please, make yourself comfortable. Will you be using a pseudonym or shall I call you by the name on your contact form?"

Shepard seated herself and tried to relax. “Depends - are you recording?” 

“Never, unless you wish it,”  he said as he sat opposite her. She couldn’t help but notice he had no terminal, no pens or paper, and no datapad. Only a lamp, a steaming mug of tea, and a carafe of fresh water with a pair of empty glasses. 

"Shepard is fine. Between us only."

"Of course, Miss Shepard. Your reputation precedes you. What brings you to me this evening?"

The way he omitted the word "Commander" from his tongue had a way of putting her at ease that she didn't expect. She cleared her throat softly.

“I’m an ex-military officer involved in a sensitive operation. I’ve got some shore leave coming before we kick off, and I’m hoping to… forget about all that for a while.”

“I see. A little distraction to take the edge off,” he said with a slight nod, sitting back in his chair as though they were having the most normal conversation of all time. “I am honored. Do you have any questions about what I do?”

“Yeah, how does this work?”

“We will discuss your needs and go over necessary safety information. After our meeting, I will submit a proposal to you. Let me be clear that the proposal is not a contract, but a document over which we can agree on do’s and don’ts, must-haves, and, if you wish, an itinerary for the evening.”

Shepard raised a brow. “...if I wish?”

“Some of my more risk-averse clients like to know what’s in store. Others prefer to be… surprised.”

On impulse, she said, “Surprise me.” 

The way he smiled made her itchy with some kind of desire. 

“You may take as much time as you need to review my proposal, ask questions, and make changes as you see fit - consultation is free. Once we have come to an agreement, we will select a date and time. A deposit is required to secure your booking.”

“And this will be discreet?"

"Your privacy is my first priority, Miss Shepard."

"No recording devices?"

He gave a small smile that reached his beautiful dark eyes. 

"I have no need. My species possess eidetic memory. I assure you, whatever you say within these walls and in my studio will stay between us.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. What else didn’t she know about drell?

“If you wish, we can move on to the specifics of your needs. Tell me more about the nature of your burdens.”

Shepard took a deep breath and leaned forward. She'd thought about this. 

"When I'm on the ground team, it feels like I don't think. There's no time for worry or delay, no time for pain. It's like a veil comes down and separates me from all the things that keep me up at night. I just act."

She lowered her eyes, fixated on his hands. But Thane waited, not the slightest bit perturbed. It was almost unnerving.

“So many people put their lives in my hands without a second thought. I get so lost in the mission that the silence of my own ship is unbearable. I come back topside ready to take on the galaxy, and there’s nothing but an empty bed and a cold shower waiting for me. I’m pent up.”

Thane nodded, assessing her with those enormous black eyes. “You indicated on your dossier that you are looking for someone to lead you, but you have not endeavored to engage in submissive play before.”

She hadn’t been anywhere near as eloquent on her contact form, but that was the jist of it.

“That’s correct. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind for your first time? There are no wrong answers; please be as plain as you feel you need to be.”

This was the part she was most nervous about. On her own ship, she made demands easily. But this wasn’t her ship, and these requests weren’t for the good of her crew or mission. Asking for such personal, intimate attention made her feel uncomfortably selfish. 

“I was sort of hoping you’d have some suggestions because I’ve only had one partner in the last four or so years. The alliance doesn't give us loads of time or space for hookups in general, much less experimenting. But I…” she sat back, propped an elbow up on the armrest, and laid her temple on her fingertips, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“Restraints are fine. Ordering me around is also fine, as long as you don’t ask me to do something ridiculous. I can take pain, but I don’t want you to be cruel. I just want to be… acknowledged. I want someone to address my needs because heaven knows I can’t do it myself. Push my boundaries, restrain me, but don't humiliate me. I've been fighting a losing battle for years; I didn't come here to lose another one.” She forced herself to meet his gaze as though it would confirm he was listening. “Whatever you do, I want you to fuck me within an inch of my life. I want to leave here so thoroughly railed that my ship's doctor orders me on bed rest.

The way his gorgeous mouth quirked sent a brief flicker of need ghosting down her spine. Whatever his intentions, that fleeting expression told her she'd been heard loud and clear. The hard part was over. She exhaled and decided to help herself to some ice water. 

“Your request is duly noted. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Do you have any injuries I should know about? Any places on your body I should avoid?"

Shepard paused, halfway through chugging her glass.

"I'm… not sure."

Thane sat forward and folded his hands loosely on his desk. His voice was kind. "The question is for your safety, although I acknowledge the topic may be hard to discuss.”

She worked her jaw, not knowing where to begin. He knew who she was, but did he know why she was?

"I died," she said at last. And if he was surprised by this, he didn't let on. 

"What manner of trauma caused your NDE?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not a near-death experience. It’s complicated. I’m not sure which parts of me are still me."

His brow softened. "Forgive me, but have you considered seeking-"

Shepard closed her eyes and raised a hand. "Not what I came here for. If it's a deal breaker, I can leave right now - no fuss." She actually wasn't sure she wouldn't be upset, but she refused to let on. Every moment she spent doubting herself only made her feel worse. 

"Understood, Miss Shepard. We can work through any unplanned discomforts as they arise. Do you have any medications that may need to be administered as a result of your… experience?”

She shook her head. While technically untrue, her medications were ported into her via implant every several weeks. 

"I will also need an emergency contact."

She raised a brow.

“It would be unfair to expect you to account for every foreseeable risk. As a safety precaution for both of us, I cannot book your session without a contact on file."

Who in the world could she even…

"Can I get back to you on that?"

"Certainly, but please be aware that without a contact, I can only hold your booking for 48 hours."

"That's fine. I was out for two years. A lot of my contacts are… unreachable right now."

Thane smiled warmly at her. "Very well. You will have my proposal to review by sunrise. Consider it something to build on; there is no need to rush into something you aren't comfortable with."

Shepard let out a sigh of relief. "Great, looking forward to it."

“There is one more important matter to discuss.”

Shepard raised a brow as Thane reached into a drawer and produced a small vial, no larger than her little finger. 

"As you indicated in your consultation request, you have not been with a drell before, I would prefer you to establish your reaction to my species’ venom. If you find yourself to be averse to its effects, it would be ideal to know before we begin."

“So you’re saying I might be… allergic to you?” Shepard tried to temper her reaction but her face scrunched in confusion anyway. “Is this like a dextro/levo thing?”

“Not at all. Drell venom is known for its hallucinogenic properties. Many of my clients have sought me out for this reason.”

“Oh.” She took the vial and rolled it in her palm. There was maybe half a teaspoon or less of clear amber fluid inside, and it coated the glass as it moved. She stared at it dumbly, wondering in the deafening silence just how this material was extracted from the man before her. 

“I understand you are on a sensitive mission,” he said with a gentle tone. “You may refuse, of course. But in that case, I would recommend abstaining from oral contact and insemination during our session.”

She nearly choked when he said insemination, but his point was easy enough to understand. He was saying she couldn't kiss him, which seemed a damn shame given his perfectly shaped mouth. The rest of his point was… something she would be mulling over for days.

“How intense is this stuff? What should I be prepared for?” Will your semen really make me hallucinate?

“Most humans describe a dreamy state of mind, a feeling of being relaxed, and reduced inhibitions. Some report seeing enhanced colors, trails of light and sound, and heightened sensitivity. In my experience, it will occasionally make a partner more… glib.”

She looked up at him. “You have people in here getting high and spilling secrets?”

Thane gave a small quirk of his lips. “I can't say.”

“How long does it last?”

“That depends on your metabolism, but usually no more than forty-five minutes.”

After a moment's consideration, Shepard pocketed the vial. Whatever experience was waiting for her, she wanted all of it. At the very least she knew Chakwas wouldn’t breathe a word about it if she reacted badly.

Oh.

“Actually, I do have an emergency contact for you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sure as he’d said, his proposal arrived in the early hours of the morning. Secure and alone with a coffee and a plate of Gardner’s famous “Blueberry Triangles,” she held her breath, opened the message, and began to read. 

To say this was a detailed document was an understatement. Thane had gone so far as to include definitions, clarifications, and FAQ’s alongside diagrams and lists of equipment he had at his disposal. Shepard’s sense of modesty had long since been eroded by years of enlistment, but even still, she blushed through half-clinical/half-pornographic descriptions of what people and technology were capable of in the year 2185. 

By the time she reached the end, she was already feeling a little hot under the collar. His email signature read “with pleasure." No kidding, she thought.

Over the next several days, questions, clarifications, and other caveats were exchanged before they finally settled on everything. In the meantime, she did a little research of her own. Drell venom, she'd learned, could be extracted any number of ways, but the most popular strategy was to isolate the compound from saliva or "other" bodily fluids (something she had spent ample time 'thinking about' before bed). 

Her sample vial had been sitting on her desk for days, innocuous but impossible to ignore. Based on her reading, it seemed harmless enough. But it was hard to escape the fact that it had come from his body. Why this felt different than eating out her first girlfriend, she had no idea. Maybe because her first girlfriend hadn't tied her up while she did it. 

Having just returned from a firefight on Aeia, she grabbed the vial on her way into the shower, set it on the vanity, and stared it down as she washed her hair. She’d tried hallex once a few years back, out with her unit on shore leave. It wasn’t an experience she cared to revisit. Everything she knew told her it would be a much more mild experience. After all, how could he run a successful operation if he was poisoning everyone he fucked? And boy, she wanted to fuck him.

The apprehension was getting her nowhere. Shepard squared her shoulders, cladding herself in the determination she had felt just hours earlier when she liberated the survivors of the Gernsbeck. The cold was the furthest thing from her mind when the automatic water system timed out; she opened the vial and downed every drop.

It was thick, as she expected. It had the consistency of warm honey, tasted like salty citrus, and perhaps most surprisingly, felt kind of carbonated on her tongue. There were no bubbles in the vial, she was sure, but it tingled all the way down her throat.

Shepard stood there, dripping water, skin prickling in the cold, waiting for something to happen. Five minutes went by. Nothing. No dreaminess, no reduced inhibitions, and certainly no colors. She shivered, too hard focused on the venom to move the few inches she would need to towel off.

Nothing happened.

Until she moved.

Warmth flooded her limbs the moment she reached for her towel. She opened the bathroom door to a world of new sensations. Light gleamed off her model ship collection like twinkling lights. Her fish were brilliant blurs of color against their soothing blue backdrop. On the other side of the cabin, her armor locker interface glowed like a campfire. She wasn't cold anymore, not in the slightest. She felt comfortable - relaxed, even. The tension left her shoulders the moment she flopped naked on her bed, watching the stars go by in dazzling flashes and streaks.

Oh, yeah. This was nice. 

She reached for her omni-tool and read over Thane's proposal again. His final summary promised new experiences, intimacy so deeply indulgent that he actually warned her that her standards might be permanently rearranged. He had even included the words "fucked within an inch of your life." She could practically read it in his voice, could almost feel his weight pressing down on her, kissing his venom into her mouth. 

Something hot and untamed inside her told her this man didn't make promises he couldn't keep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Jeez Commander, you got a hot date or something?"

Shepard was jumpy with anticipation. Her inbox was empty for the first time in weeks, her crew had their assignments, and her shore leave was cleared. Nos Astra's docking bay came into view.

"What's it to you, flight lieutenant?"

"I'm just saying, you're crowding the bridge right now."

"It's my ship," she said, one hand resting on the back of Joker's chair as the ship settled into its docking clamps. Her omni-tool pinged with a preset reminder. Forty-five minutes till showtime.

"Must be nice."

"You say that like you aren't also getting shore leave." She pushed off his chair with a playful shove.

"Uh-huh. We're all getting sloshed at a bar called Chocolate Starfish, but someone isn't coming with."

"Yup," she replied, dismissive. 

"Definitely a hot date," he muttered as she made her way off the ship.

A sleek, luxury cab was waiting to take her through the heart of Nos Astra under a brutal sun. This place looked nothing like it did at night. She wondered how many other individuals in Thane's line of work had their offices and studios in the gleaming towers that crowded the city byways. 

This time, she docked at the upper taxi pavilion on the 75th floor and took the lift down to the same level as before, loosening her shoulders as though preparing for a combat drop. 

Soon enough, she stood face to face with a pair of frosted glass doors. A soft, warm light shone beyond, giving the portal a sense of ominous liminality - a transition between worlds. On one side, the world she came here to escape from. On the other, an unknown kind of pleasure awaited. Fingers wrapped around the cold stainless steel handle and she breathed deep. 

The door opened with a rush of warm air. Smooth bamboo floors led her through a new reality of warm colors and textures that, while unexpected, helped put her at ease. She followed the corridor around a short bend and entered a gorgeous room with a vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Illium’s dizzying metropolis. To her left was a neatly made bed; to her right, a sofa accented with red patterned pillows, and overhead, a series of dangling artisanal incandescent bulbs.

Thane himself stood before the wall of windows with hands clasped behind his back. He was facing away from her, and from this distance, she could gauge his height and build much better than when they had met on opposite sides of his desk. From his wide shoulders and downward, to the satisfying taper of his hips and an absolutely perfect ass, he possessed a classic silhouette she found immediately enticing. 

He wore a neatly tailored cream-colored button-down, sleeves tucked neatly into themselves just above his elbows, and dark-colored pants. To her surprise, he wore no shoes and no adornments. He looked comfortable, in fact, as he turned to greet her arrival. 

“Welcome, Siha,” he said warmly. 

Shepard wondered if Siha was some kind of cultural term for submissive, but said nothing. On instinct, she straightened her back and shoulders, eyes straight ahead as he approached. Her immediate shift to full attention seemed to amuse him, because he lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, now just a step away from her. A hand reached across the shallow divide as he passed, settling softly on her arm. 

Shepard clung to that point of contact as he circled behind her, stroking up and down her arms and shoulders, squeezing and releasing each muscle. 

“At ease, soldier.” 

Beneath his chaste touch, everything seemed clearer than before. His words took her back to a simpler time, back to when expectations had been heaped upon her, but they were clear, easy to identify, and even easier to obey. Demands that didn't require her to perform the impossible or weigh the worth of her entire species.

“Within these walls, your purpose is to serve me. Until sunset, you will address me as 'Sir.' Please me, and I will reward you. Disappoint me, and you may find yourself reprimanded.”

He paused. She knew what to do.

"Yes sir."

It didn't matter if he meant to threaten or intimidate her. No, when Thane spoke to her this way, she felt relieved, reminded that he was here to do the thinking for her. Shepard exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and he made a small sound of approval. 

“Tell me your safe words.”

“Cherry for stop, sir. Kiwi for pause.” 

His hands smoothed over her lower back and hips. “And if you find yourself unable to speak?”

“Two taps, sir, with hands or feet.”

“Good, Siha.” 

His touch lingered on her like a phantom as he withdrew and circled around to stand two paces before her. 

“Please undress.” 

Despite having been in various states of undress in front of other soldiers many times, this was altogether different. Thane was not shy about the way he assessed her, making no attempt to avert his eyes, although his expression remained neutral. Her shirt came off first, and she looked to him when she realized she didn’t know what to do with it. His expression betrayed nothing, so she elected to fold it quickly and place it on the ground beside her feet. 

Her boots and socks came off next, and then her pants. Each time she looked at him, he did not react, and so she continued, unhooking her bra. The cool air helped distract her from the color rising to her cheeks.

When she reached her panties, he took a step forward. “That’s enough. Place your feet three inches apart.” 

An oddly specific order, but easy enough to follow. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she settled into parade rest, palms out and overlapping against her backside.

Thane collected her pile of clothing and placed it somewhere by the door. Her skin prickled, whether due to temperature or anticipation, she couldn't tell. When he returned, he touched her shoulder again, this time with much more care. His scaled fingers traced a glowing scar. 

“Does this cause you pain, Siha?”

“No sir."

“I admit I've never seen anything like this before. Do not hesitate to tell me if they cause you distress.”

Shepard took a deep breath. Reading people had never been her strong suit, but she understood what he was saying. Somehow, it was more comforting than isolating. It felt like he cared. 

“Yes sir,” she confirmed, perhaps softer than she intended.

For a moment, he continued to wander, and although his touch was chaste, she felt her body stir beneath his eyes and hands. Trust was a frail vine, sun-seeking, crawling from the remains of her damaged ego. Something about him was calming in a way that felt disarming. She wanted him to touch her, badly enough that she didn’t flinch when he began to dress her with a length of rope.

This time, he was less chaste. He allowed his hands to brush along her curves as he worked, warm scales pressing into soft flesh, crisscrossing the valley between her breasts in a way that framed them prominently to his attention. Heat collected along the lines he traced across her bare skin, the rope creating a sort of harness around her torso. She bit her lip when he finished his work and circled behind her without further contact.

Her arms were next. Another length of cord slipped beneath her biceps, drawing them behind her. The position pulled her shoulders back, elbows some inches apart in their bindings as he continued, forcing her chest into the bright strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows. Her forearms followed, and then her wrists, palms folding together. There was a firm tug as he secured a knot above her hands. 

Shepard flexed in her restraints, testing her range of motion. He had given her enough space that her arms could slide together, but not comfortably. 

"Too tight?" He asked. 

"No. -no sir."

Strong hands settled on her hips, textured hands dragging across her skin as he circled her, either inspecting his work or her body - probably both.

“Now then, where to begin?” he said as he came to a stop before her. Her skin tingled in his wake, absorbing the heat of his touch, and she sighed as his palms smoothed over her breasts. He seemed pleased by her reaction. “Perhaps here. As you know, my species does not possess such anatomy.”

He continued to touch her, capturing her nipples in the spaces between his fingers. 

“Feels good,” she sighed, and he immediately withdrew, knocking her right breast with an open palm. “Sir-” she corrected. “It feels good, sir.”

“Very good, Siha.” His hands returned, taking each of her nipples between his fingertips. “Shall we test the range of your sensitivity?”

“Y-yes,” He applied firmer pressure. Her eyes slid closed and she groaned. “Just like that.” 

This time, he made a show of gripping her jaw firmly in one hand as he tugged on her breast with the other. Whatever lack of focus she had before was banished in an instant. His reaction was even more arousing than his touch - the way he did not hesitate to remind her of the rules of their game. 

“I will not warn you again,” he said.

“-sir,” she gasped, pushing her chest eagerly into his hands. 

He made a low sound, slowly twisting his fingers. The feeling was electric, bordering just on the edge of pain. If this was how the entire night was going to be, she was sure she wouldn’t survive. He continued to touch her, alternating between massaging and tweaking her breasts as she writhed in her restraints, kindling the needful heat growing inside her. 

One hand fell between them, wedging between her tightly pressed thighs. His voice made her ache when he pulled himself close and said "Open your legs, Siha."

She complied immediately, widening her stance. His fingertips traced her seam through her panties, forcing the fabric between her lips and rubbing a slow, firm line up and down her cunt. She felt rather than heard his low purr of approval. “Already soaking wet?"

"Yes sir," she breathed. 

Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head and touched his lips to the center of her chest, roaming hands pushing up on her breasts to bring them nearer to his face, nearer to his mouth.

Plush lips pushed against the sensitive tip of one breast and then moved to the other. He had been handling her for scarcely two minutes and already had proved himself more adept than any lover she'd ever known. She tensed, every pleasure center on her body yearning for the promise of his hot mouth. 

“Look at me,” he said softly. 

Her eyes lowered to his; enormous, dark, and somehow possessing a manner of depth she had never seen in any species before. Light from the windows illuminated the irises beneath his dark sclera, the same color as the fine scales adorning his cheeks. It felt like he could see past every lie she told herself, every fabrication she’d ever hidden behind. Good christ, if he already had her halfway to ruined, what the hell was he going to do to her for the rest of the night?

His mouth ghosted across her skin as he said, “Tell me what you want, Siha.”

She had to blink to regain herself. His mouth was right there, but rather than be direct, she attempted to appeal to his position. “Your mouth, sir," she said, before adding meekly, "...if it would please you, sir.”

The sound he made was all the reward she needed; a deep, satisfied thrum of arousal that made his crimson cheeks flutter. 

His mouth finally closed around the tip of her breast, tongue stroking long and firm across the sensitive peak. She couldn’t help the low moan that left her, every pass of his tongue like fire licking her spine. She squirmed, and he moved to her other breast, tonguing her nipple as he rolled the first between his fingers. The feeling was white-hot torment between her parted thighs, pressure screaming to be relieved. She wondered if she could climax off this alone, stumbling with the effort to maintain her balance as he tore her apart with devastating effect. 

“Fuck-” Her thighs came together, desperate for relief as she begged “Please-”

A second later, his touch vanished, and her heart dropped. She let out a strangled whine of frustration and stumbled as she reached for him only to be reminded that her hands were immobile.

“Disobedient,” Thane deadpanned, straightening himself to face her. “And to think how close you were.”

“Please, sir-”

“Hush, Siha. Allow me to help you remember yourself.” He soothed a thumb across her cheek before stepping away out of her line of sight, leaving her to wonder what he had in store.

His footsteps were nearly silent as he moved through the room behind her. She heard a drawer open, followed by the sound of softly clinking metal. Moments later, she felt his touch on her hands, trailing a line up her bound arms and between her shoulder blades. Something that felt like leather brushed the nape of her neck and she tensed, adrenaline igniting her blood as she prepared herself for what she imagined was a whip or a crop or-

“I have a request,” he said. “Something I would like you to wear for me.”

It didn't matter that she didn't know what it was. She agreed without hesitation.

“This is a collar,” he said as the cool leather encircled her neck. “May I?”

Shepard breathed a relieved “Yes sir.”

His voice was kind when he said, “Thank you." The material settled against her skin, not as tight as she expected. A gentle tension passed quickly as he secured the buckle. Although she could not see it, she could feel the cold press of some kind of metal against the front of her throat. 

He departed again for only a moment, and returned to face her. He placed something soft on the ground between them. When he spoke, his voice was low and tenebrous. 

“On your knees, Siha"

She sank slowly, trembling with the effort to maintain her balance. Hell or high water, she was determined not to disappoint him again. Her knees sank into the cushion he so kindly provided, and after some effort, he brought a gentle hand to her jaw. 

"Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek. 

Shepard wasn't prepared for the heat that rose to her face - and between her legs - at his words. They filled her with a kind of pride and lust that she hardly recognized, flooding her with yearning. 

"Are you familiar with meditation?" He said as he began to undo his belt with all the nonchalance in the world. 

Her breathing quickened. Words felt flimsy in her mouth. "I've never tried it, sir." 

"The practice is meant to achieve clarity of mind," he continued. "You may begin by focusing on your breathing.”

His fly dropped and his cock came free, a stiff and gleaming shock of fuschia against his pale green belly.

Yes, a deep breath was what she needed right now. His size was intimidating. Thane seemed to give her a moment to admire him, aware from their conversations that she had never slept with a drell before. Were they all so colorful and endowed? 

"Feel your breath," he said softly. He drew close, a hand beneath her chin pulling her gaze up the length of his body. “Center yourself on the here and now. There is nothing but you and I.”

Inhale.

He touched her hair. She could feel the heat radiating from his thick, ridged length as he held her gaze.

"I will give you everything, Siha. Do you trust me?”

Exhale.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.  

There was a warm hand on the back of her skull. 

"Breathe deep. Open your mouth. Taste."

Compliance poured from her without question, lips parting at his command. He laid the tip against her tongue as she looked up at him through errant strands of hair, waiting and ready for him to slide himself into her throat. 

"Be reminded that you may hallucinate." 

In that moment it was clear why he had insisted she dose herself beforehand. One way or another, he was already on her tongue, the faint citric flavor of him already calling her attention. She pushed her tongue against his tapered head, gauging his reaction. She wanted to see him as lost as he had made her, wanted to hear whatever deep, delicious sounds his rich baritone voice might produce. Unable to speak, she settled simply for a small nod of acknowledgment. His smile could have melted her. 

Slowly, he pushed himself into her throat. 

He was overwhelming in the most exquisite way. Bound and on her knees, she couldn't do much but take the intrusion as he seated himself so deep in her throat that her eyes nearly watered. The sound he made was soft and low, sinking through the cracks in her mind like water in the desert. He pulled his hips back, combed through her hair with elegant green fingers before grasping a fistful near the back of her skull, pulling her back into him. She let out a low groan of satisfaction as they both worked her mouth on and off of his sizable length. She had no idea where he would be most sensitive, but he seemed to take no issue with the way she swiped her tongue hard over the underside of his shaft and hollowed her cheeks. 

The hallucinations began quiet and slow. Her skin warmed, her mouth tingled, and when she opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) his scales glimmered like soft, iridescent stars. 

High above her, Thane's mouth hung just slightly open, his eyes hazy, free hand hanging limply by his side as he used her mouth. She found a pronounced cluster of ridges near the root of him and drove her tongue against it, rewarded at last with a guttural sigh and softening brow. 

"Your throat is a paradise, Siha," he panted, quickening his pace ever so slightly. "So good, so tight.”

The heat inside her was tethered to his words, a fire that burned hotter every time he praised her. She moaned around his length, pushing against him with her tongue, sucking him with abandon. He fucked her mouth until her jaw ached, the panties still wedged in her cunt burning against her clit. She wanted his climax like she wanted her own. Wanted to know if he would taste like the sun and zest he radiated before she drowned in the ocean of her own unsatiated lust, desperate for whatever he deemed her worthy of. 

She heard his breath catch in his throat, and that was all the warning he got before he shoved her head onto his cock. He pushed so deep that saliva hissed out the corners of her lips before he stopped, trembled, and came on a whisper-quiet breath. Liquid heat flooded her mouth, pulsing, thick and hot, coating her throat and warming her all the way down with a glittering sensation she couldn't hope to describe. His hand fell away from her hair but she was loathe to release him, sputtering as she hummed around his length. She drank him back until he pulled away and his cock fell heavily from her mouth. 

That sweet, sweet high settled over her. Oblivious to the thin tendril of saliva and cum that dangled from her wet lips, she rested her cheek against his thigh as he closed his pants over his retracting length. And then he was kneeling beside her, holding her as she caught her breath, murmuring soft praises as he used his thumb to trace her lower lip and push what remained of his spend back onto her tongue. The flavor spread into the hollows of her cheeks like rich, warm oil as she worked her jaw closed.

A hand brushed her hair from her eyes. His forehead pressed against hers.

"Lovely," he breathed, voice like silk against her cheek. "You are a gift, Siha.”

Shepard couldn't help but smile dumbly at him, thighs tensing in anticipation. She felt warm all over, dizzy and swaying with need as he helped her to her feet. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, holding her steady. 

“A… a little high, sir.”

She watched one of his brow ridges rise as his lips quirked in amusement. The more she looked at him, the more beautiful he seemed to become.

"A good high, I hope?"

“Sir, it feels perfect.”

His eyes seemed lit from within as he smiled.

She allowed herself to be led over to the sofa, where he seated himself and reached for her hips and turned her away from him. Steady hands closed over hers, fingertips slipping beneath her bindings, loosening the knot and securing it again such that it released some, but not all of the tension in her shoulders. There was a brief pause, and then without preamble, he hooked his fingers into her panties and slid them down her legs. 

Shepard tried not to squirm. She loved where this was going.

“Please sit, Siha,” he said, patting his thigh. 

No sooner had she lowered herself toward him, his arms came up to circle her waist and pull her into his chest. They were skin to scale now, his shirt apparently having been opened at some point prior. Her eyes slid closed, the warmth of his smooth scales at her back giving her a feeling of security as he adjusted her position until her thighs fell open on either side of his.

"You have a new rule," he whispered against her ear. Shepard bit her lip in anticipation. "You must ask for permission to come. Will you do that for me?"

Shepard nodded, too high to remember herself, and jumped when he tapped her clit with three fingers. 

"Use your words.” 

Her head fell back against his shoulder. "Yes, sir."

For god’s sake, he didn't hesitate. She nearly sobbed as he soaked his fingertips in her wetness, tensing in his arms. It felt like heaven - like she could come right then and there - but she steeled herself. One finger gathered her slick arousal and began to circle her aching clit, teasing with a featherlight touch. She groaned as his other hand palmed her breast. The soft pressure was hypnotic, paired with the glittering sensation of his scaled fingertips between her legs. His breath against her cheek was a radiant, rippling mirage on the horizon of her lust. 

Slowly - so, so slowly, he pressed his finger against her wet opening and dragged it upwards, over her pearl. The jump in sensation made her gasp, but he did not reprimand her. If anything he only pulled her tighter against him, repeating the motion once, twice, and again, until she was writhing in his arms, biting her lip to stem the tide of her oncoming climax. That single, relentless motion tore her mind down minute by minute until her entire cunt burned bright with the desperate need for release. 

"Please," she gasped. "Please sir, may I come?"

He twisted a nipple in reply, his other hand slipping a finger into her opening. 

"So soon, Siha?” 

She whined, not sure how much she could take, but desperate now not to disappoint him. "It feels so good, sir."

"I'm glad my touch pleases you so," he murmured, pulling his finger from her depths and letting the connecting thread of sickness draw taut and snap in a cool, bright lash against her sensitive skin. "A fitting reason to continue, I think."

"I’m so close, sir-"

"I don't think you're nearly close enough.” He entered her again with his joined fingers. "I know you can take it, Siha. Let me hear all the beautiful sounds you make for me." 

He used his thumb to tease her clit as he curled his fingers inside her and sent a blinding flash of pleasure rocketing up her spine. She grit her teeth. 

"D- does it please you to deny me, sir?"

"Oh, Siha, I am deeply satisfied by the way you writhe in my arms."

She whined, trying to pinch her thighs shut to stem the tide of sensation, but it was impossible. He held her too tightly, scaled thumb rasping with delicious, sanguine friction against her slick center. She moaned when she realized he was hard again, his cock pressing into her backside. The thought that she was separated from him by nothing but a godforsaken pair of pants made her feel stupid with need, desperate to know how he would feel buried deep inside her. Her spine bowed, hips bucking against his hand as she released a strangled, pathetic cry of frustration.

"I know, my angel," he crooned, lust coloring his voice. "You can take it. Just a little longer." 

He was moving with her now, grinding himself up into her ass as he speared his fingers in and out of her open cunt. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch the way he touched her without the risk of falling over the edge. 

"Twenty seconds," he said. Shepard heaved a breath and grit her teeth, counting down in her head. Twenty seconds could pass in seconds on the battlefield. Beneath his hands, it was a nearly unbearable amount of time.

"Ten seconds."

The world was nothing but heat and sensation, her cunt burning like a drive core after a firefight, suffused with the incredible pressure of oncoming release. Thane latched his fingers around her nipple and she sobbed out with need, her spine bowing away from his back, arms and shoulders rigid with effort.

"Five."

The sound that built in her chest was a guttural, frustrated whine born of raw effort. It hissed out through clenched teeth. His fingers hilted in her channel and she swore she could feel every scale that passed through her opening. Just a few seconds-

"Two."

All the control in the world couldn't stop her. She felt the first straining pulse of release and knew she was doomed. Her climax reached up through her belly like a beast, squeezing along her spine and enveloping every nerve in her body in a screaming flood of ecstasy. She shuddered, unable even to hear her own voice as she tumbled through the wave he'd built upon her, chest heaving, straining against her bonds. Finally, all that remained of her breath was a choked-out moan.

She was spent. Somewhere far off in the back of her mind, she was aware she had broken the rules, but his disappointment seemed like a distant, irrelevant thing. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, velvet-soft cheek pressed to hers. 

"Breathe with me," he said against her skin. "Breathe."

She could feel how wet she still was; his fingers were the only thing stemming the flow of her own arousal, buried and unmoving inside her. Her shoulders ached, but her body burned, the fog and fatigue of climax at war with the raging desire to be filled, ravaged, and claimed by the part of him pressing hard and hot against her ass. Thane, unconcerned with his own state of need, was still as stone as he continued to chant softly against her, "Breathe, breathe."

She couldn't say how long it took to gain control, but with his body warm at her back, she slowly drifted back to reality until they breathed as one. When she opened her eyes, color bloomed around the golden lights hanging above.  It struck her that this man was still a total stranger to her, but here she was, perhaps the most vulnerable she had ever been since she'd woken up on that Cerberus recovery table. 

When he finally moved, the shift of his scales against her was electric.

"Can you stand, Siha?"

The words felt like wind in her hair; a soothing brilliance, far too fast to catch. He shifted her into a more upright position until her feet touched the floor. 

"...what?" She asked dreamily. Were his floors heated?

Plush lips touched the side of her neck, breath warm on her skin as he asked again with infinite patience, "Can you stand on your own?"

Standing. Right. She wasn't sure she could. How did he know she wasn't sure? All the multitudes of times she'd been knocked on her ass in basic, in N school- no one had ever asked her if she could stand on her own. They'd scarcely asked her if she'd been hurt. 

His hands held fast to her hips. With a shaky breath, she blinked her eyes against the hazy afterglow and straightened her back, stretching into a more comfortable stance. She felt her weight settle on her feet. 

"I… I think so, sir." 

He gave her hips a reassuring squeeze, and something in her heart leapt.  

"Very good."

They walked slowly to the other side of the room. He led her to the edge of the bed and encouraged her to sit. 

"You came two seconds too early, my angel," Thane said as he began to work the ropes around her wrists and forearms. 

Her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, sir."

Thane only hummed in consideration as he worked. 

"You were magnificent at your peak, Siha. I will forgive this misstep." Her shoulders sagged in relief, his words like a balm on her heart. "However, it would behoove you to remember who you serve." 

"Yes, sir."

Her elbows suddenly came free, releasing the tension in her shoulders with a rush. Her hands tingled as blood returned to them. Thane adjusted the remaining cords around her chest but otherwise left them in place. As she sat, he moved in front of her and placed a bottle of water in her hands, from which she drank gratefully. He then began to rub her unbound limbs, drawing a breathy sigh from her. His hands - Jesus, his hands were a damn miracle. She hadn't even noticed how much her shoulders had ached, flexing them beneath his soothing touch. 

When he arrived at her wrists, he squeezed gently before reaching beside her and producing a pair of smooth leather cuffs linked by a small clasp.

Her eyes wandered as he worked, following the lines of his fingers toward wide palms, the elegant taper of his wrist, and upward along his strong arms. His shirt was now fully open, and she could see the wide, verdant stripes that flowed over his shoulders, leading her eye to all the other interesting features of his body.

The question rose from her before she could stop it, her fingers reaching before the words had left her mouth.

"May I touch you, sir?"

He looked at her then, and she steeled herself for a reprimand, but there was only kindness in his eyes. He raised her cuffed hands and placed her palms on his chest. 

Shepard couldn't help her dumb smile, flattening her hands against smooth, warm scales. There was a surprising softness to them, no resistance as she swiped a thumb over one of the errant dark scales that dusted his body, not unlike her own freckles. 

"Is my body pleasing to you, Siha?"

"Yes," she answered breathily, adding the obligatory "-sir," before he could acknowledge its absence. 

She traced one of the curious lines of crimson that ran beneath each of his pectorals, rewarded with a soft sound that she not only heard but felt beneath her hands. He’s sensitive here, she realized, repeating the motion with a firmer touch. His reaction, though reserved, was not lost on her. She wanted more of him, wandering downward to trace the diamond-shaped patterns decorating his pale green abdomen, and further still to more crimson frills peeking out from the top of his pants. He didn’t have nipples as a human would, but he did have a belly button, which amused her. And awkward though it was with her hands bound, he seemed pleased at her interest. 

Rather than removing her hands, he simply rose and moved away when he'd had enough. He gave her a small, soft smile as he said, "Wait here, Siha." 

She blinked as he paced away and disappeared behind a closet door. The euphoria of his venom left her in a relaxed, contented state, overtaken by the memory of the spectacular climax he had given her. She was certain no one had ever brought her off with just their hands before. And though her release had been powerful, it had done little to stifle the need gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her blood stirred with the thought of what he might do next. 

Finally, he returned, kissing the crown of her head. He placed a nondescript box by her feet.

"Please stand, Siha,” he said. “Spread your legs, and bend over."

She did as he asked, eagerly bracing her palms on the edge of the bed as she bent over and presented herself to him. Venom swimming in her veins, she wondered how much of her mind was still her own. If there was anything left, it has long since taken up residence in her pelvis.

Thane laid a palm at the base of her spine. Something slick prodded at her weeping cunt, and then she gasped as his fingers slid inside her. He gave two or three slow thrusts before withdrawing and dragging her abundant arousal to the tight bud of her asshole. She moaned in surprise as he pressed against her with one finger, rubbing in firm circles. They had agreed on no anal sex, but play was not off the table.

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?"

"I.. it was a long time ago, sir." She peeked back over her shoulder to find him watching her, rubbing her lower back with his free hand. 

“We will go slowly. Remember your safewords.” 

In this state, it was so easy to trust him. He slowly pushed a slick finger past her tight hole, feeling the stretch and burn as he entered her.

He reached for something with his free hand, and what it was, she couldn't quite see. As he worked her ass, he introduced the rigid shape of it to the seam of her cunt and eased it inside. It was wide but not long, a rounded plump thing that he let slip out into his palm before pushing it back in, over and over again. 

A plug, she realized. He was going to plug her. The idea that he planned to fill both of her holes made her head spin. 

His finger slipped out of her ass, and more slickness followed. She felt his fused fingers at her rim and grunted as they breached her. In moments he was building a rhythm, matching the pace of each hand as he began to fuck both of her holes. The feeling was incredible, whatever slight burn she may have felt quickly dissolving into warmth as he worked her.  She closed her eyes and let herself fall against the jasmine-scented sheets, pushing her hips back into his hands. 

"How does that feel?"

"It’s good, sir,” she breathed. 

And then the plug was at her entrance, pushing slowly, opening her with a delicious burning stretch that took her breath away. Deeper it went, stretching and pushing until the bulk of it popped inside her and the flared base settled with a soft tap against her hole. Thane gave it a few taps for good measure, and she couldn't help but moan into the bedspread. 

He stepped away for a moment, and she adjusted her stance, flexing and working her hips against the air with unshielded need. The plug’s modest volume put pressure against the inner walls of her cunt, and that hint of stimulation was driving her crazy. 

She searched for him over her shoulder until he finally returned, toweling off his freshly washed hands. 

"Now then, I seem to recall a discussion about pushing your boundaries.”

Thane squeezed her ass with both hands. Her need flared at the suggestion alone. 

“I think a few spanks would do well to remind you who you serve.” He teased her wet slit with his fingertips and gave her ass a light and playful slap, rumbling with desire when let out a quiet gasp. “Are you ready for that, Siha?"

Her cheeks burned and her thighs tensed as she said, "Yes sir, I'm ready."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, "Very well. You will tell me if you become distressed." He caressed the curve of her backside with a warm palm. "Count to ten," he said. And that was all the warning she got before the first spank landed. 

It wasn’t forceful, but it jolted her anyway. His palm bounced on the left side of her ass in an upward motion. The sting was near imperceptible, but the intent was clear. She gasped involuntarily.

A few short seconds passed as he rasped her clit with near-threatening softness. And then the second hit landed on her opposite cheek. 

"I said, count, Siha."

"T- two, sir."

His hand impacted her left cheek again, and she gasped out, "Three, sir."

"You may drop my honorific for the moment." 

She nodded against the sheets, her eyes squeezed shut somewhere between arousal and a vague feeling that touched the edges of embarrassment.

Another spank on her right side. Now that she was warmed up, she welcomed the calidity blooming across her backside, slithering into all the little nerve endings that lined her empty, needy cunt.   

"Four."

He continued on, and she counted three seconds between each blow. By the time he hit six, she understood why his strikes were soft. The heat built over her skin in layers, each strike seeming to add to the next until she cried out against the indescribable waves of sensation rocketing through her.

"Seven," she gasped through gritted teeth. 

By eight, her ass felt hot in the wake of each blow. Her body was propelled forward in anticipation each time his hand came down, and she relished the electric feeling of her breasts dragging against the bedspread. By nine, she already knew she would miss this when it was over.

The last hit fell against her right cheek. She gasped “Ten,” and he relented.

Shepard sagged against the bed, flinching as he smoothed both palms over her sensitive backside, pushing the lingering burn into her flesh. The feeling sang through her veins. 

"I love the way your skin blushes beneath my touch," he murmured, nudging a knuckle against the plug buried in her ass. His fingers then slid - blessedly - back into her cunt, curling right against the part of her that made stars bloom behind her closed eyes.

"Open your hands, Siha," he ordered. 

She didn't know what for, but she complied, extending her bound hands across the sheets beneath her until her weight settled on her shoulders. A long, smooth implement was pushed into her palm and she closed her fingers around it as he adjusted its position such that the firm end of it settled against her clit. She leveraged it immediately, snuggling her cunt up to whatever blessed source of friction he had just endowed her with.

"Remember the rules, Siha,” he purred. “You wouldn't disappoint me a second time, would you?"

Cheek pressed against the bed, she nodded. "I promise, sir." 

The device hummed to life, a powerful vibration that made her shiver. Shepard let out a low moan.

"Good girl. Count to ten."

And then he pulled back and spanked her again.

The blow was no more powerful than before. She felt her ass jiggle on impact, too distracted and overwhelmed to care. 

"One." She groaned, voice muffled by the sheets. He brought a hand to her hair, forcibly turning her head to the side so as to hear her clearly. The second strike came, and the impact rushed in a wave across her entire body. "Two."

Pleasure and pain melded together like hot wax. Shepard panted, cheek smushed against the bed as he paused again and smoothed a hand over her reddened flesh. Pressure gathered between her spread thighs, her empty cunt clenching in desperation. She wanted more, bucking against his hand. 

Her voice was hoarse when she said, "Please don’t stop." 

He obliged, another three strikes raining down on her like the kiss of god. 

"Can I come, sir?"

He pushed two fingers into her cunt and wedged his thumb hard against her plug as though to contemplate her request. With her hands at the wheel of her own pleasure, her building climax was much easier to control. Even still, his seeking fingers drove her crazy, so desperate to be fucked she could scarcely think of anything else. 

"At ten, you may come for me."

"Thank you sir," she sobbed. He spanked her again.

Six. The feeling was a golden flash of light behind her eyes.

Seven. His fingers skimmed the soaking furrow of her cunt. Shepard let out a whine as he withdrew, grinding against the powerful motor between her thighs.

Eight. Her climax threatened to overwhelm her. She managed to lift her hips away from the vibrator seconds before it was too late, crying out against the raging push and pull of sensations overwhelming her.

Nine. She writhed against the bed, knees wobbling. Thane wrapped an arm around her belly and held strong as he kissed her spine, sending a chill throughout her entire body as she waited on the vicious precipice of the final blow and the sweet release it promised. 

Ten. 

She couldn't tell if it was harder than the rest. She came the second his hand landed, climax overpowering her so fast it forced the breath from her lungs. Light burst behind her eyes, white hot waves washing over every part of her as Thane stuffed his fingers into her pulsing cunt and fucked her through each rippling convulsion until she collapsed, panting and spent. The wand hit the ground with a loud thump. And then he was releasing her wrists, gently maneuvering her into a more comfortable position on the bed. 

She let out a feeble groan as he began to soothe her skin with cooling medi-gel. Worked up as she was, the texture of his fingertips was overwhelming in the most exquisite way; the only reality she could comprehend were his hands on her, the soft sheets beneath her, and the raging void inside her begging to be filled. 

“Tell me your heart’s desire, my angel,” he said, drawing his hand up the inside of her thigh. “What would you ask of me?”

Her head was swimming. Shepard clenched her teeth and made an incoherent sound "I want you to fuck me, sir.”

Thane coaxed her onto her back and she watched as though through a fog as he tugged on his belt. His scales gleamed in the low light of Illium’s setting sun. 

“Tell me again." he rasped.

His pants hit the floor and he began to stroke himself with hunger in his eyes that foretold the hurricane he was about to unleash, full lips parted with a breathy sigh as he squeezed, smoothing his natural fluid from root to tip. Shepard drank him in - every sound, every flutter of his eyelids, feeling for one second that she had regained some intangible thing from all of this, the trust and vulnerability that he gave and cultivated without reservation. She swore she’d never wanted anyone so badly in her life. 

“Please," she begged. Her own voice was thick in her mouth as she opened her thighs and spread her cunt with desperate need, open and empty and soaked with desire. "Ruin me, Thane.”

The sound he made rumbled like thunder on the horizon, and then his hands were on her, dragging her bodily to the edge of the bed and spreading her wide. Her ass chafed against the sheets, breath caught in her lungs as he laid his tip against her oversensitive clit and flames erupted under her skin. Where this was going, she was certain she wouldn't survive. 

"Who do you serve?"

"You, sir." She felt him at her entrance, and all thoughts fled her mind. "I serve you."

Time was immaterial. There was nothing but the stretch, the push, and the heat of him as he split her open with his gorgeous meaty prick. Her plugged ass pulsed as he filled her. Chills rushed over her in waves and she sobbed out her pleasure, gripping the sheets beneath her. 

"That's it, Siha," he crooned, stroking both thumbs up the sides of her wide open cunt. "Take all of me." 

Thane gripped tight to the meat of her thighs, pulling their hips flush. She was so full, fucking full that she scarcely had the space for thought. 

And then he fisted one hand in the ropes at her chest and moved. 

His strength took her breath away. Unable to do more than take what he gave, she gasped out sounds she didn’t recognize as her own as he began to fuck her in earnest. His grip was sure to bruise but she didn't care. Her pulse pounded in time with each echoing slap of his hips against hers, rapidly overwriting reality with unending shocks of pleasure as he filled her again and again. Absolutely no one had ever fucked her like he did.

And when he brought that vibrating wand to her clit, he didn't even wait for her to ask. 

"Come for me, Siha."

Shepard came like she was purpose-built to climax at his command. She shuddered violently beneath the unrelenting motor, voice breaking around the cry of ecstasy that forced itself from her throat. The sheets came apart beneath her gripping fingers as her limbs locked up against the assault on her senses.

"Again," he ordered, shoving her straight into overstimulation.

Thane held her thighs wide open as she thrashed, his strength too much for her to beat back without stopping him entirely. Her orgasm crawled from beneath her skin like a demon, clawing at her the whole way out.

"Once more, Siha,” he panted.

She couldn't- It was too much- She opened her mouth to tell him off but he bent over her, trapping the vibrator between them as he rasped into her ear, “For me, Shepard. I want you to come for me."

The sound that left her wasn't human any longer. Her back arched off the bed as though pulled by a force beyond her comprehension. She finally came one last time, the force of her orgasm sending her to heaven and hell and back again. With whatever remaining shred of rationality she possessed, she ripped the wand from his hands and flung it away.

And then there was only him. His hands on her body, his cock packed inside her, his hips hammering her soul from her body. He fucked her so hard, so completely, with such devastating demand that she was sure she would never be fit for duty again. Whatever world she had served before didn't hold a candle to the cataclysmic pleasure he gave her. Her eyes rolled back, and she could see the infinity between stars. 

Shepard groaned as he pushed deep, caging her between his arms and gripping her by the hair as he pulled her head back, his lips frantic and clumsy on her neck, her jaw, and finally, her mouth. She tasted the citric burn of his venom as his tongue pushed against hers, desirous and needy, swallowing the sounds of her desire. Her arms wrapped around him, tears stinging her eyes as he hollowed her out with more passion than she had ever known. The heat coming off him could incinerate her for all she cared. She never wanted to let him go.  

Adrift on his venom and pinned beneath him, she could only hold on as he drove himself against her. She let her hands wander, pulling at his backside, sliding over his hips. Her thumbs slipped into the sensitive crimson furrows of his pelvic frills and he gasped, his pace stuttering, and spent himself with a low, ragged breath. His lips met hers in clumsy desperation as he flooded her, sparkling heat blooming in the deepest reaches of her channel. It spread through her with every uncoordinated thrust that followed, driven by the sanguine push and pull of him until everything between her legs felt coated in bright, cool warmth. The high was cosmic, ethereal, so unlike any reality she had ever known that she wept, half in pleasure, and half in regret that she could not hold on to this feeling forever. He kissed her tears away, holding her until they were both well and truly spent. 

Eventually, Thane raised himself on shaky legs and withdrew. Minutes slipped by in exhausted, satiated silence after that. She sagged into the sheets as the ropes at her chest came undone, the collar at her neck fell away, and the rigid plug inside her was gently removed. There was a hand beneath her head, water at her lips. Something cool and soothing cleared the mess of fluids from between her legs. Then the sensation of being lifted as he climbed on the bed and arranged her into his lap, draping her against his chest. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She was dreaming. 

A warm embrace around her on a sunlit afternoon beneath the dreamy palm trees of a far-off island. Cool wind on her skin, an ocean in her ears. Someone was speaking to her; a deep, sweet voice that made her cheeks swell in a quiet smile. 

"Are you awake, Siha?"

Shepard made a small sound and weakly shook her head, nuzzling against something warm. For the first time, in too long, her thoughts were at peace.

"My apologies," the voice said. 

Apologies for what? Everything was perfect. Then she was moving, the sound of the sea disappearing into the warmth of rustling fabric. Her back settled against something decadent and soft. A tender hand cupped her cheek. 

She cracked her sleep-heavy eyes open to find herself in another realm, lit by the warm yellow tones of a nearby lamp and little else. The sky outside was dark and dotted with the twinkling, passing lights of Nos Astra’s traffic. Thane sat beside her, a small smile on his face. He kissed the top of her head.

"I regret that I must ask you to rise soon, Shepard."

Shepard curled into the lightly scented blankets that had been tucked in around her. 

"What time is it?" She asked. 

"Just past sunset."

She wound her arms around whatever parts of him she could reach and mumbled, "Five more minutes." 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thirty minutes later, she was gently roused from sleep. 

“Would you prefer to dress yourself in private?” Thane asked.

Shepard placed her tired feet on the floor and stood before him, naked as the day she was born.

“I think we’re past that,” she said with a small chuckle.

He gave her a small smile and helped her into her pants as he said “I wanted to thank you.” 

Shepard blinked. "I should be thanking you.” 

"We may thank each other, then. I enjoyed our time together."

Shepard attempted to conceal her blush by pulling her shirt over her head. "I bet you say that to everyone."

Thane kissed her cheek. "Even if I did, how would you know?"

It was a damn tragedy that she couldn’t spend the entire night with him. 

"If I survive this… thing… I'm involved in…" she began, a sudden timidness taking root in her like a damn teenager. "I'd love to get lunch sometime."

That got a genuine chuckle out of him, and he gave her a friendly hug. Her heart leapt for but a moment.

"Perhaps," he said with a beautiful smile. "We shall see what my wife thinks.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tali was stiff as a wire, straddling a chair on the engineering deck and gripping the backrest with both hands.

"You slept with who?" 

"I don't know, his profile said 'the artist formerly known as Ocean's Prayer' or something."

Tali’s luminous eyes were wide behind her mask, shoulders tensed with some kind of anticipatory excitement. 

"The Ocean's Prayer? From Fornax?"

Running a hand through her hair, Shepard smiled sheepishly. "We weren't allowed to have Fornax on Arcturus, Tali."

"This isn’t Arcturus! You have your own damn ship!" She exclaimed.

"I'm sure you've noticed, but I've been a little busy-"

"Keelah, Shepard. You humans make problems out of nothing." Tali's Omni-tool glowed to life. "Let me just… there. Look." 

A holo sprang up before her - a magazine cover - on which a green drell posed, the image conspicuously cropped at his waist. Tali pointed, as though the image didn’t already have Shepard’s full attention. 

"This guy?"

Shepard nodded, chewing on her lip. "That's him, yeah."

"Do you have any idea how famous this guy is? Look, look-" Tali began to page through the magazine. 

Just because Shepard never had Fornax didn't mean she'd never looked at porn before. There definitely should've been a paywall some pages back. She narrowed her eyes and gave Tali a mischievous look.

"Is that your personal copy?" 

"You-! Shut your mouth, you have no room to talk after what you just told me," Tali shot back. 

"Give me that, I want to see."

Her omni-tool pinged and Shepard flipped open the holomag. 

Ocean's Prayer: the Fornax exclusive you've been waiting for - interview with the Master of Inscrutable Depths himself.

"Shepard, that man could make even the most straight-laced turian beg for mercy."

"Damn," Shepard muttered under her breath, paging through walls of text she was too dazzled to read, sprinkled with teasing photos that made her hot under the collar. Just on the memory of his touch, his voice, his massive-

Oh. 

The next page opened to a full page photo. Shepard coughed on her drink.

Sere Krios is rendered by the incredible @messydiabolical. Check out AO3 for the uncensored feature :)))

[shepcdr]

random thoughts on shepard in his training days in the alliance, pre mass effect 1:

shepard is incredibly touch averse especially in his younger years... and i think the first and only time he ever got a haircut on base, it fucked him up. plus the px barber wasn't used to dealing with biotics either and to dealing with the static shock. so you ended up with one very freaked out barber and one very cut up and slightly shaken shepard

plus, going every week to get his hair cut and leaving nicked and a little mentally disturbed, and having to pay??? no thank u morons.... he modified his omni-tool fabricator so he can just shear it off on his own... it doesn't look Great but he's all right at it :)

and ofc he made credits off of that. he's pretty resourceful and i think decent at modifying omni-tools — by no means professional, and sometimes if he goes too crazy, the result can be dangerous (which was not necessarily a bad thing in days with the reds..... sometimes you Want something to catch on fire or to blow up). but he gets it done.

he's probably done all sorts of modifications for fellow recruits, for a few credits ofc, and has gotten in trouble for it ... probably a handful of times. i'm sure omni-tools are very standard and everyone's bound to have one, but they probably have standards on omni-tools that recruits are allowed to have. or limits on how Much said omni-tools can fabricate... im sure that shepard Will find a way to get fabricators into a regulated omni-tool ... and that one of his fucked up little creations probably sparked and caused a fire in the barracks at some point... maybe multiple points. (where there is yishai shepard. there is going to be a fire. or something that he's fucked up that Will cause a fire.)

in general, he got in a Lot of trouble during training and had to clean his act up big time. he's just got a penchant for causing shit (or rather. he sees an opportunity to make credits or to gain favours. he Will take said opportunity). it was very difficult fresh out of the reds to get clean. he went cold turkey from red sand/minagen, but basically just switched to heavy drinking, though there were times he nearly relapsed. nearly got kicked out for misconduct a few times, and he did not get along well with anyone — being very antisocial, extremely hard to read, coming in with a history like his, and having very powerful biotic abilities honed to destroy. and rumours of his gang affiliation and about what he was doing for the Reds spread around and made things even more difficult. the old tattoos (not things officially affiliated with the reds until years later, because the reds were still kinda small time/covert/regional) didn't help.

for these reasons and others, i think he has a really nasty history with higher ups, NCOs on power trips, people who were wary of him and sought to keep him under control. not all of them sucked, but the ones who did left lasting impressions, and shepard's attitude (aka just. the way he is) did not help. there were definitely people that didn't fuck with him and that wanted to see him fail.

i think that maybe anderson first came across him in these.. very Trying first couple of years in training. he saw a struggling young man (barely a young man tbh, shepard was in a difficult spot where he was forced to grow to survive and deal with Horrors, but that's!! still a kid!!!). someone who needed a little help and a chance to grow. he probably talked with some people and got future opportunities for shepard — so long as shepard got his shit together — and put him in contact with resources and programs for his personal shit. anderson didn't do a lot of this directly, but he did check in on shepard time to time, and of course higher ups giving him counsel would mention anderson's involvement. and when shepard was ready for it, got through advanced & biotic training, anderson recommended him personally for n7 training... cemented himself in shepard's life as a mentor when there were very few people who filled that role for shepard. shepard doesn't know anderson well, but he is deeply loyal to anderson and attributes his career to anderson seeing him and being willing to give a fucked up kid another chance.

[husband-steve-cortez]

Officially thinking about Miles as a Vanguard what was I thinking making him a sentinel.

I just want him to have more separation from Ezra's skillset tbh. I do love Miles being a paladin-like tank/healer/party support sentinel, good with biotics and an omni-tool, but a vanguard glass canon who's also kind of a tank in a way, constantly drawing aggro and fire by shoving himself in enemy's faces...

Still something of a paladin. A hero. Would also be kinda hot. Vanguard is kind of a fun sexy class to me.

Also like the idea of him having a different skillset than Kaidan at this point tbh. I mean the double armored up sentinels thing is really fun but Miles being the vanguard and Kaidan being a sentinel (his sentinel) is kinda... 🫦

All about his biotics making him stand out, that charging involves using his body as a tool and hurling himself into harm's way, blowing his barriers and constantly dancing on the edge of danger... probably getting injured a lot and not caring...bit of a reckless streak because he doesn't matter... Kaidan applying medigel while Miles is just in a tight sleeveless tshirt and his biceps are swollen and his pecs are threatening to pop out. I mean huh

[omniblades-and-stars]

Her omni-tool lit up once more as she sent another call out. It connected before the first attempt even went all the way through.

“Yes, what do you need?” a distinctly salarian voice answered with some mild annoyance.

“Vazori, not gonna ask me how I’m doing?” Lou joked. Conversations with Vazori always went this way. She was brilliant, but didn't bother with small talk. Lou thought it was charming.

“Unnecessary. You're calling me, so you're not dead. What do you need?”

“Listen, hon, I need a way to get into an enemy space station without my ship being detected as hostile. I also need to be able to stop my flight controls from being hacked by top level shit,” Lou explained, remembering how Nilea’s shuttle got locked out so easily. “Preferably hardware, in case I need to … re-appropriate a different ship.”

“Steal.”

“Yeah, Vazori, I mean stealin’. Can you help me find what I need? Could probably backdoor access, but no guarantee I could get it done before my shuttle is blown into stardust.”

“Hm. You could use IFF with right data. Turn onboard data sensors and relays off, fly manual. No, no, not a trained pilot. That's sure to end in failure. Death.”

Lou chuckled and shook her head, “Love your optimism.” As always, Vazori was painfully blunt.

“You need to reflect data. Mirror. Trick docking protocols with matching code, and block outgoing transmissions. Yes!”

“Great, you have something for me!”

Vazori clicked her tongue, and Lou’s omni-tool lit up, indicating that she had received a message. “No. Not me. You need a prototype, re-appropriate.” 

“You mean stealin’.”

“Yes," Vazori answered conspiratorially.

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 24 - 11 and 12 (Shepherd and Situationship)

Summary: Al's got some new crew on the Normandy and people are beginning to wonder what alien he's going to recruit next. Not only that, but... is he hate fucking the turian?

Come on, people, this is supposed to be a war ship...

---

You know, if Anderson had told him being the CO was going to involve so many headaches, he would’ve let Bo have the job.

Alistair groaned as he stepped away from his computer, cracking his sore neck in the process. He had been working for two hours, going over various reports that had been sent since he had been planet side. It was a lot of numbers and figures, and he could see them even when he closed his eyes. If that wasn’t a sign he needed to take a break, he didn’t know what was.

Even better, his omni-tool’s CGM was beeping.

“I thought my tongue was going numb, but I thought it was from boredom.” He frowned as he flipped his wrist over to view the numbers – 54 with the arrows trending downward. “Well, that’s not good.”

He glanced around the room, eyes falling on a box labeled ‘emergency sugar supply’ on the desk. Unfortunately, it was empty – he had used it up after picking up Liara on Therum. Apparently, driving the Mako through lava fields had taken it out of him.

So, off to find a better supply it was.

Shaking his head, CGM quieted for a moment, Alistair left the office behind. Outside, it was busy as always as the crew got something to eat in their off time. He nodded to them as he passed, heading for the fridge. For a low like this, only one thing would do.

The biotics called them adult juice boxes – they were liquid energy supplies. He usually preferred his emergency supply – it was hard to beat his recipe for homemade pixie sticks frankly – but beggars couldn’t be choosers at the moment. As long as it got his sugar up, he didn’t care.

“Doing ok, Commander?”

He picked up his head, glancing over his shoulder. The voice was coming from Kaidan, who also had a pouch of liquid energy. That wasn’t surprising – he had been on the last mission after all. Anyone would’ve needed a refill after that.

“Oh, Kaidan.” He nodded as he poked the straw in. Sipping on the straw took some effort thanks to his numb lips and tongue, but he managed to drink it without having it drip from his mouth. “I will be in 15 minutes. Guess I went harder than I expected.”

His fellow biotic nodded. “I thought I heard your CGM going off when you came out. How low is it this time?”

“54 and going down. The real annoying beeping is going to start soon if I don’t refuel.” Alistair  took another sip. That was the last thing he needed – too low and it was impossible to shut off for long. He would have to keep hitting the button on his wrist until his sugar rose.

Nobody wanted that.

They stood there for a moment, sipping their energy supplies. An uncomfortable tension hung over the air, and he found it hard to look at Kaidan directly. It was a miracle his cheeks weren’t heating up because his face certainly felt hot.

He should’ve been over this by now. After all, it had been over a month ago, before he had even become the CO. It hadn’t been that big of a deal – just a request to have dinner that got turned down politely. It happened every day.

At least that’s what he told himself when the embarrassment threatened to spread onto his face with a spread of pink and eventually red.

“So, is Liara settling in ok?” Thank God he changed the subject. Kaidan was a good one for reading the room – no doubt he had sensed the same tension he had felt. “She was a little shaken up when we got her back on the Normandy.”

Ugh – Alistair hid his expression with a sip of energy supply. He didn’t have problems with the asari, per se, but… she made him a little uncomfortable. It was the way she had looked at him when he had stopped by to check on her. He was probably just reading into it too much, but… yeah it didn’t sit right with him.

Still, Kaidan was expecting an answer.

“I stopped by earlier to see how she was doing.” His tongue was starting to come back to life, so it was easier to drink. “She seemed ok to me. No doubt it’s a little weird to be surrounded by so many humans.”

After all, even though the Normandy had been designed by both turians and humans, it was really only run by the latter. She was the only asari, and she brought the total number of aliens on ship up to 4.

 At least she could eat the same food as they did. It had been a right pain to get supplies for Garrus and Tali. Luckily, the Alliance had nutrient paste they could eat. It didn’t look appetizing, but it was food. Maybe it tasted better than it smelled? For all he knew, it was just his human perception that it was terrible.

Probably because he was sitting there, he was able to pick up some talk from the crew eating their meals. It was a side-effect of losing his eye – he relied on his hearing more on his bad side. Since he was standing on the right of Kaidan, his good ear was towards the table.

“How many more aliens is he going to bring onto the ship?”

“What do you think he’ll find next, a salarian?”

“No way a salarian will come on the same ship as a krogan.”

Alistair frowned as he took the words in. Part of him had assumed the crew might not be too happy about sharing their ship with other races. While he was pretty sure none of them were card carrying members of Terra Firma – that would make their job difficult – he had heard muttering as he went about his duties.

This was just a confirmation of that.

Kaidan saw the look on his face and frowned as well. “Problem, Shepard?”

He shrugged, turning his good ear away from the table. “Apparently, some people don’t like our new friends.”

Was he going to have to run some type of workplace training? Did the Alliance even have a module for dealing with alien crewmates? Probably not – it wasn’t exactly known for taking in other races. He was most likely going to have to write it himself.

Just what he needed – another duty on his plate.

“They’re just getting used to them. Give it a week, maybe two.”

Alistair snorted in a very not-commanding officer way. “Sure, a week is all it’s going to take to get rid of years of distrust.”

He sighed. “I guess I better go check on everyone after I finish up to make sure nobody on the crew is giving them problems.”

He wasn’t worried about Wrex for obvious reasons. If his gun didn’t scare people away, his biotics would. Alien-shy humans didn’t tend to be too nervous around asari, so Liara was probably fine as well. Garrus was a maybe, but he was most concerned for Tali. They were the ones he would start with.

But before he started, he had to finish his energy supply. Alistair sipped up the last of it before tossing the empty pouch in the trash. His CGM was happy now – 75 and trending upward – so he didn’t have to worry about the beeping. It was a small victory, but he was happy to take it in the moment.

“I’ll talk to you later, Kaidan.” He walked away, heading for the elevator. A few seconds later, he touched down on the vehicle bay. Like always, it was busy. He spied Wrex in the corner, sticking out like a sore thumb in his bright red armor, and mentally checked him off his list.

He looked un-fucked-with, so that was enough for him.

Next should have been engineering, considering Tali was high on his concern list. However, his eyes were drawn to the Mako and the turian standing by it. Garrus was running a program, talons tapping against his omni-tool as he worked.

His feet took him over. “How’s it looking, Garrus?”

“Oh, Shepard.” He nodded. “Better than I thought. Looks like you’ll just have to replace a tire and do some minor electrical work.”

His mandibles twitched. “I was expecting a lost worse after Therum.”

Alistair’s cheeks turned pink in response. He had expected that – after all, he had been the one who was driving. Well, according to the crew “driving” was describing it rather generously. Even he had to admit that when he got behind the wheel, chaos soon followed.

Frankly, he thought he did a pretty good job considering he didn’t have a driver’s license.

“Yeah… he’s built to last alright.”

Another mandible twitch. “They must have built it with you in mind. Those was some… creative ways to get around obstacles, Shepard.”

What, it wasn’t like he had driven into the lava or anything. He had just gotten… kinda stuck… at one point. Once he’d thrown it into reverse and gotten some traction, they got over the hill just fine. The geth fire had bounced off the armor without even causing a dent.

So, no big deal. Just another mission on a hostile planet.

“I was told I think out of the box in basic.” He gave a sheepish grin. “As long as nobody dies, I think it works out.”

Much to his surprise, Garrus chuckled. “That should be the Alliance rule – it all works as long as nobody dies.”

Alistair snickered too. “As I was told once, it’s not a war crime if you do it for the first time.”

It was a bad joke that had been passed around during his N7 training, especially considering he was telling it to a turian. After all, their races had started fighting each other the moment they had met across the relay. Things were better now, but it was still a new relationship.

Then again, they had only made it to the relays when he was a kid. So, they were all new relationships if he was being completely honest.

“Now that’s a saying I can believe comes from an Alliance marine.” Garrus’ turned back to his data. “Anyway, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

He nodded. “Just checking to make sure you’re settling in ok. I know it can be a little weird to be around so many humans. Nobody’s bothering you, are they?”

The turian shook his head. “Nothing other than a few strange looks and some whispers, but it’s not like anyone’s hiding my stuff or messing with the food. Why, were you worried about me?”

Well… yeah.

Alistair glanced to the side, feeling the heat from his cheeks. “Just checking is all. If the crew were starting anything, it’s my job to put a stop to it.”

It was his job… and he had already made a bad first impression with the turian on the Presidium after knocking him onto his ass. He didn’t want to make matters worse between them, given they had to work together for a while.

Also… well, he wasn’t bad to look at either. But that was beside the point. The main idea was checking on his alien crew members.

“Thanks for the concern, Shepard. I don’t think you need to worry about that, though.” Garrus had a note to his voice that suggested he wanted to get back to work. “I should probably get to fixing those electrical parts before you take the Mako up a mountain or something next mission.”

It would’ve been bad, but his mandibles were twitching. Alistair was beginning to realize that happened when he wasn’t being serious. He had to hold back a sigh of relief as he nodded and left the turian alone to finish his work.

At least he wasn’t annoying him too much.

“Right, now to check on Tali.”

She was in engineering, which was on the same floor. It wasn’t a long walk, but as he made his way over a voice drew his attention. Someone was talking with Tali, and it wasn’t anyone assigned to the engineering deck.

As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure they had unofficially banned her altogether; apparently, Bo was cursed.

“Anyway, how’d you get that hit two planets back? I thought shotguns couldn’t do something like that.”

“I modified it. If you want, I can take a look at yours later when I’m done here.”

Tali was at the console like always, typing away. Across from her was Bo, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest so she didn’t touch anything. That was probably why they had left her down there without fearing for the safety of the Normandy.

That, and it was really difficult to tell her what to do. He was used to it.

“Eh, it might mess with the stuff Al-“ Bo picked up her head. “Speaking of; coming to make sure nobody’s bullying Tali, Al?”

Alistair shook his head as he joined the pair. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yes. Is anyone bothering you, Tali?”

The quarian shook her head as she continued to type. “No, everyone has been welcoming to me. It might be because I spend all my time down here, but I haven’t had any problems.”

That… and the crew knew better than to mess with someone Bo had an interest in. A dead man could’ve seen it with his eyes closed based on how she was standing and what she sounded like. There was a quieter, softer sense to it, and it carried into her eyes when she spoke to Tali or even mentioned her.

Of course, he might have been able to notice it because he was around her all the time, but… he was going to just say it was obvious.

“Well, that’s good to know. You can let me or Bo know if that changes.” He nodded. “Well, I need to go check on Liara. Talk to you later.”

Much to Alistair’s surprise, a second pair of footsteps followed him to the elevator. Bo got in behind him as he punched the number to go back up to where Liara was set up in the lab. In theory, he could’ve gone to her first, but… well…

He was sure she would’ve been fine.

“Checking on Liara, huh?” Bo leaned against the wall. “Do I have to chaperone you so she doesn’t jump your bones?”

Alistair groaned in response, leaning his forehead against the wall. “So it wasn’t just me thinking that?”

“She wants on your clit bad.” His sister snorted. “Which is hilarious, by the way. The whole crew is whispering about you secretly hate fucking Vakarian, you think she’d get the hint that you’re not into her.”

He wasn’t sure what made him blush worse – the thought that Liara wanted him in that way, or the implication that the crew thought he was sleeping with Garrus. Both were pretty bad, but it was hard to tell which one was worse.

Maybe it was the one involving the asari?

“I’m not hate fucking him, Bo.”

She shrugged. “I know. You’re too Catholic to hate fuck somebody. But you do want on his dick, don’t even try to deny it.”

Instead of denying it, Alistair shook his head. “Like you want on Tali?”

“Oh, shut up, I’m nowhere near as bad as you are, choir boy.” She shoved him in the side – it almost launched him. “Do we have to run the fraternization prompt again?”

Well, no – technically, Garrus and Tali weren’t members of the Alliance. He was pretty sure they didn’t count under the rules of fraternization. Then again, they did listen to him… so it was kind of a moral quandary.

He would think about it later when the paperwork got to him.

“I’ll sign you up for the first module, then.”

The elevator doors opened, and Alistair stepped out. Bo followed behind him, apparently making good on her suggestion to chaperone him with Liara. It was silly, but he appreciated the offer as he made his way to the lab.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Liara, but it was nice to have his sister at his side. And, if need be, he could direct her attention towards the giant pink lesbian standing next to him so he could slip away and get back to the endless paperwork.

Talk about a perfect plan; he should’ve thought of this in the first place.

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 16: Storm

A soft little go-nowhere fluff piece for Ryder and Gil

++

It hadn’t been in Ryder’s plan to stop for long on Eos. A quick drop in with the Vault to ensure that everything was still running smoothly beneath the surface. But once they’d sat down in Prodromos, Vetra had gotten Kallo mixed up in some haptic interface optimizers one of the research scientists was working on, and so they stayed an extra few hours so those could be installed.

Of course there’d been a fire fight with the Kett on the way back from the Vault. Once they returned to the Tempest—and just as Vetra and Kallo had promised to be back aboard—Drack had gotten an urgent and private communique and had tracked off into the wastes, said he’d be back in four hours.

Then, of course, Liam decided—as long as they had the time—he could fiddle with the Nomad and finally install the stereo he’d first purchased back on the Nexus weeks ago. This still wasn’t done as Drack came back, armor scuffed and face blackened with soot, and so they waited.

Ryder was trying not to hover over Liam’s work, and had instead sat down by the big windows at the back of the ship, read a book, and watched the light on Eos go from burning bright, to a dusky orange.

“There you are,” Gil came up the stairs, gave Ryder a furtive grin. “I was looking at the weather report out of Prodromos. Looks like there’s going to be a big storm just skirting the edge of the mountains over there.”

“Hm,” Ryder didn’t pay it much attention, but warmly smiled at Gil as he sat down next to him. “A what? A storm?”

“Yeah, you know, kind Eos was famous for. Well, before the Pathfinder opened the Vault and made it livable again.” He looked at Ryder expectantly, but Scott only shrugged. “Do you want to go up on the ridge and watch the storm roll in with me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Gil,” Scott gave a worried look at the falling sun. “Soon as Liam’s done in town, we’ve got to get back in space.”

“Please, Scott?” Gil leaned in, lifted an eyebrow. “Do this with me?”

Scott sighed.

Twenty minutes later, they were atop the ridge, the Tempest and Prodromos small and distant down below. As the sun set, the sandstorm blew across the horizon. It was a tendril of living black that seemed to flow parallel to the ground, its interior flashing sparks of blue and green as the static within churned. As it poured before the setting sun, it turned to gold along its edges, casting a shadow that came almost to the foot of the ridge they were sitting on. They sat comfortably, sprawled on the rocks, side by side. They listened to the faintest of distant thunder rumbles and the sound of the wind growing calm as it spread from the storm.

“This really is beautiful,” Scott said softly. He leaned his head on Gil’s shoulder. “It’s funny, when we first set down here, I hated the constant storms. All the time, destroying everything we were trying to build. I’ve never seen one like this.”

“Me either,” Gil put his arm around Scott and leaned back against a rock. “On Earth, I used to watch the storms go over the hills. Never seen a big sandstorm like this, though.”

Ryder looked down at his wrist, noticed the communication light on his omni-tool was blinking. Probably Kallo telling him they were finally ready to go. The sun sank below the horizon, its last rusted hues swallowed up by the storm, until it was dark and only the distant lightning gave any indication the storm was still there. But Scott could still feel it, static scintillating on the air. It made him hold Gil tight, breathe in the ozone and the faintest hint of Gil’s soap.

“Thanks,” Scott said at last. “This is… part of why I love you, honestly. Nights like this. Gives me perspective on things.”

“You’re welcome,” Gil chuckled, turning his face into the breeze from the south. “Honestly, I just wanted to watch the storm. I wanted to watch it with you, I mean,” In the dim light, Scott could barely see Gil’s eyes. “Share something else with the man I’m sharing my life with.”

Scott smiled. They had better be heading back, they could be in space in an hour, and back to the Nexus by tomorrow afternoon. But, with a sigh, he made up his mind that they would spend the night planet-side. He couldn’t explain why, something about perspective.