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Thane had expected many things when signing his life into Shepard's hands, but truly living again, of all things, had caught him by surprise.
He's told Shepard of some of it. He hasn't quite described it all. These feelings for her -- this trust -- this desire, above all: he'd set that part of himself aside long ago, and he hadn't anticipated anyone to awaken it again. For a human to do so was particularly unexpected. Physically, he knows they're not so far apart; mentally, he'd count her as his peer; and in matters of the heart, perhaps only one such as she could understand….
Yet it's still enough to make him wonder, to call on memories and compare, when she calls him to her cabin again and draws him with clear intentions to her bedside.
It's not that different from what he remembers after all, except that everything is.
For one thing, soft is not a word Thane would have chosen to describe the legendary Commander Shepard, but it's foremost on his mind as she presses against him, twining her arms around him, meeting his mouth with hers. Her muscles are well-trained and firm, her movements decisive, and yet the feel of her skin is what strikes him most: it's smooth and supple, and so terribly sensitive. Every little touch of his makes her wriggle and gasp. He can't imagine how humans get through the day, if so little stimulation can be felt so profoundly.
Of course, when she moves just slightly aside, blinking as if the room's suddenly too bright, to trail kisses down his neck -- yes, he has to admit, drell have such weaknesses too.
His knees tremble and his hands tighten around her when she kisses again, then licks softly between the folds. She seems so pleased with herself, Thane thinks, when that involuntary shiver takes him -- and well she might, for arousal so sharp and so soon is still hard to believe. He'd thought he'd might miss some of the more familiar intimacies, like --
-- bending her head to tuck against his shoulder, whispering his name so that he can feel it through his own throat, and ending on a burring sigh in her lowest, richest register that he can't help but answer. It vibrates all the way through him until he groans, helplessly, wanting more --
-- but Shepard turns out to be distractingly ingenious in her own way, with her mouth and her body and those cleverly independent fingers of hers. He's making sounds of pleasure she can't even hear, but her instincts are perfect and she's moving like she knows it.
He wants to gain the advantage yet, but for now he's letting himself enjoy this.
Now that the immediate battle has been won, the Collector base destroyed and The Illusive Man is-- as Shepard likes to put it, in ironically human-centric metaphor -- out of their hair, they've had more time like this together. The first time, emotions had been too high to remember much else. After battle, she'd pursued him with raw, cathartic hunger, and he'd been happy to oblige. But this -- this is slower, more thorough, and infinitely more satisfying. They haven't even fully undressed yet; they're teasing each other with little, searching touches and undoing clasps and zippers one by one, taking their time. But Thane eventually takes the upper hand and surprises her. One sharp tug peels the clinging shirt from her, and she gasps and arches her back, pressing herself closer in all sorts of intriguing ways. Thane smiles to himself, then undoes her bra -- not an easy task to master, but he thinks he has the trick down now -- and pulls it away, too, before he bears her down to the bed.
Shepard gasps when she hits the mattress, his body hard above her.
There's something about this, he thinks, in that little cold corner of his mind that always stays aloof… something so alike to going for the kill. To have another's life in your hands, their body in your body's control, their excitement so evident in the speed of their breath and their pulse and their involuntary cries: yes, he knows that feeling well. But this will end so exquisitely differently. This requires him to surrender as much as her. It invites him to own the sensations in his own body for once, to accept them, even revel in them, and it's dizzying. It's been years since he's inhabited himself so fully, his senses stretching out through every buzzing nerve; he's so aware of the blood in his veins, the tension in his muscles, the sudden pressure of his aching body against his tight-fitting clothes. Even in a moment of dominance like this, he knows his mind could so easily get overruled by this electric storm of sensation and impulse. He knows he's not completely in control.
He suddenly has more sympathy for Shepard and her sensitive skin, and it almost makes him laugh.
As for control, after all, she's starting to work on wresting it away. She's working on his clothes as best she can from her position, and he doesn't hesitate to help; he wants it now as much as she does. Of course, all the twisting and sliding they're doing against each other doesn't exactly help. Shepard's actually grinning, her teeth biting into her lower lip, and he has to stop to kiss the bruised, blood-flushed skin. Gods, the way she tastes -- the way she smells… he lets his tongue delve deeper, and breathes in a rush of heady pheromones that leave him buzzing, making him wonder if those hallucinations she joked about go both ways….
Her legs slide up around him and she's starting to make incredible, indescribable sounds, and all he can think when his hips involuntarily roll against her is that these pants they're both still wearing have absolutely got to go.
Thane wrestles control back for just long enough to deal with it, and then she grabs him with incredible force, pulls him down, and no, soft is definitely not the word he should be using for how she's going about this.
Certain things about her, though… certain places… well.
He can't be blamed if he dwells over those, he's sure.
Drell women are smaller than this, after all. They've no need to nurse, and so they stay slim and sleek and streamlined: still curved more at the hips, but otherwise… less pronounced in their femininity than some races' women are. So while he's perfectly familiar with the idea of breasts -- the asari hardly hide theirs, and even the quarians' are hard to miss -- he's never had such reason to touch. They're so distractingly warm -- humans definitely do run hotter than drell, especially so close to the core -- and the way she moans when he touches her there, the way she presses up into the touch, the sharp gasp when he slides his hand down, letting the sensitive webbing between his middle fingers drag across her tightening nipple --
Yes, it does seem to be a worthwhile place to linger.
Thane smiles, almost slyly, and does so for a while, then lowers his mouth to her while his hands explore elsewhere.
Her skin is absolutely incredible. The sharp taste of her sweat, the smooth, flawless texture… he supposes Cerberus did their best to ensure it was so, which he notes with momentary distaste, but that's not her fault. After all, this lovely, lithe body was only reconstructed, not invented; they couldn't have had such imagination as to make her so ticklish when he teases her on the way down. She'd had to explain what that word even meant. Overexcited nerves, she'd said last time, letting loose an entirely unexpected giggle. Can't help it--
it's still hard to tell if such a reaction really means pleasure or discomfort, and so he doesn't push it, but he loves that laugh. He's so rarely heard it until now. And so he does it again, just once, making her squirm and her breasts tremble and her cheeks flush bright red while her eyes squeeze shut, and that delightful sound ripples through the air -- and then his fingers are brushing the surprising curls of hair at the apex of her thighs, then tracing lower, and he's curving in just so until she swears and thrusts her hips to push him deeper and she moans --
-- and then, before he even sees it coming (and how long has it been since he's been surprised like this?), she twists herself up and around and grabs his shoulders, and all at once he's the one flat on his back, and getting the sort of predatory smile from her that usually means someone is about to face swift and merciless defeat.
At her hands, he doesn't even mind.
She's moving so sinuously for one of her kind that he'd almost suspect drell blood in the mix somewhere, somehow, but that forceful drive behind it is all hers, he's sure. She's all over him now, claiming him thoroughly, and when she slides one hand between his legs to grip him there at last, the hot, needy throb it provokes nearly drives all the breath out of him. There's only one woman he's ever let take such control from him, but for Shepard, for someone who's led him through the jaws of death and out again…. here and now, he's willing to give her everything.
He takes her hand as she slides him into her body, touching himself even as he touches her, and the sensation is so intense it's nearly blinding.
They find a pace together, already familiar enough with each other to know the rhythm. The deep, throbbing pulse that she needs quickly escalates, and she's half screaming by the end, and he's not sure his body can even take this kind of tension… but when that intangible limit is finally breached and she clenches hard around him, he lets himself go with ecstatic relief. For a few moments, their bodies move beyond any conscious control, the aftermath intense and euphoric. And for a few moments more, they keep moving together, riding out the last of the aftershocks. Her eyes stay locked with his, even while she shudders and shifts around him, still coming, her whole body trembling.
Finally the energy begins to leave her, fading with a long sigh that nearly rocks her to collapse. She's still watching him, eyes overbright. Slowly, and carefully this time, she lets her muscles relax one by one.
He feels it acutely when she releases him, sliding free with deliberate slowness. He's still hard enough that she seems to take a moment to consider her chances, and then she moves, stroking one hand over his slickened shaft in a slow, questioning slide. The rest of his body doesn't really have the energy to answer, but that part at least certainly does. Human men can't recover so quickly, he understands, so he supposes it's no wonder that she'd take advantage -- and take advantage she does, for the smirk on her lips before she slithers down to take him in her mouth, tasting herself on his skin, then coaxing another slow, shaking orgasm from him, is outright wicked.
And then she lets go again, sliding back up to curl herself around him, sighing as she subsides at last.
He's spent, exhausted, feeling as if he ought to return the favor, but also as if he's too heavy to move. She doesn't seem to mind. For a long while they simply breathe together, slowly matching their rhythms once more. For a moment it's difficult; his weakened lungs don't take in as much air as they used to, and her pace leaves him slightly lightheaded. But she seems to notice, and adjusts, and before long they've reached accord.
His hand resting over her heart still looks so strange, but when her own reaches up to clasp his, somehow it becomes perfect.
Thane sighs, watching Shepard's eyes flutter closed. She's still awake, but not for much longer, and it gives him a rare moment to observe her without defenses. The sweet intimacy of it shakes him even more than what they've just done. Of all the times and ways he could have found such emotion again, he'd never have guessed it would be like this -- but he's suddenly grateful beyond measure that it is.
Siha, he murmurs, before sleep can creep over them both. Dream well.
And from the way she smiles at him, in a way he's grateful he'll remember until the very end, he feels certain they both will.