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When she spotted him, a small part of Victoria felt relieved. Whatever it was, it always felt more solvable with Garrus by her side. The larger part of her, which was holding on to her composure by the thinnest of threads, tensed up. Damn he looks good in armor, she thought as her eyes drank in the dramatic widening of his chest up from his waist.
“Shepard,” Garrus said conversationally, coming from the side alley to stand at her side, like he’d always planned to join her. “Interesting scenery for a stroll.”
He was wearing his helmet with visor obscured, as he always did when he ventured out on Omega. She couldn’t see the look on his face when the helmet tilted towards her, but she could hear the teasing in his subvocals, could imagine the glance down at her attire.
Heat flashed down her body, sweat slick between her skin and the leather dress. She gritted her teeth against the pull of raw need. “I can stroll wherever I damn well please.” A vorcha was giving her a leer from the side of the street, and her biotics simmered in angry tendrils around her. The alien straightened and averted his eyes.
Garrus half-hummed, half-chuckled. “Clearly, but why? Samara was concerned.”
Samara should have been too deep in her own sorrow to spare a thought for Shepard’s state of mind, yet here was Victoria, with a very large turian babysitter.
“I’m fine,” she declared with the sort of final, authoritative tone that usually quelled anyone onboard save for Chakwas.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Shepard.”
And Garrus, on occasion. He never questioned her orders or authority, but even back on the SR1, he had respectfully debated some decisions with her. And since her resurrection, he had occasionally pressed her about personal things, ignoring the façade she put up. Since Sidonis, he did it more often. The change was subtle, but noticeable.
“To play for time before Samara caught up with us, I took one of the hallex Morinth offered. I’m walking it off. The Cerberus liver already chewed through the worst of it.”
“You can’t know for certain what the drug was cut with.” Garrus lifted his hand to gently brush against her upper arm. “It’d be safer to –”
Electric shivers radiated out from his touch, and Victoria veered into him in pure instinct, one hand on his keel, ready to kiss him before the sight of his helmet brought her back to reality. She shoved him off, biotics snapping wildly around her.
“Shepard, what the hell?”
He jogged a few steps to catch up with her.
“Morinth had started her… her mind thing, too,” she admitted. “It’s making me feel all kinds of weird ways. I’m trying to walk that off too.”
This time, when he grabbed her arm, she had been expecting it, and she forced herself to stand still, stiff as a board.
“Shepard, you should really go see Chakwas.”
“You saw me shove you a minute ago! I don’t want the crew seeing me lose my marbles.”
“Doing it in front of Aria, in the middle of a dangerous street, is better?”
Swearing under her breath, she snapped free, grabbed his arm and hauled him into a dark alley between two buildings, cluttered with ventilation and recycling chutes. She stopped behind the first large metal box.
“There! Not in the middle of a dangerous street!” She shoved him again. He stumbled back against the wall, and she couldn’t decide whether she felt triumphant or disappointed he was not resisting in the slightest.
He tore off his helmet, and the expression on his face was equal parts angry and alarmed. The tight mandibles completely hiding the usual hint of teeth on the sides of his mouth, the inward angle of his browplates. She wasn’t certain when exactly she’d become so good at reading turian stiff facial expressions, but at some point over the last several months, she had memorized all the nuances of his mannerisms.
She turned away from him, inspected their surroundings. She found one surveillance camera, easily hacked it to overwrite the last minute of footage with a loop of the previous one. Forcing her brain to engage into a logical activity had relegated the pulsing heat between her legs to the back seat, and she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down and force it to stay there.
“Okay,” Garrus said carefully when she looked back at him. The anger seemed to have faded and he had straightened off the wall. “If you’d rather wait it out here, we can do that.”
Longing speared through her, and that was even harder to ignore than the raw need aching in her belly. She turned her back on him, crossing her arms, and dug her nails painfully hard into her biceps to distract from the sensation against her oversensitive breasts.
She heard him quietly take a step towards her, but stop a few feet away. “Your temperature is too high, your heart rate is elevated and –” She heard him sniff cautiously. “– and you smell off. If this was a C-Sec stop I would consider you dangerously intoxicated. Are you certain you’re not impaired?”
And it was too much. She turned back to face him and stepped into his personal space. He stepped back again and she followed. “Not chemically,” she drawled when he stopped against the wall. His mandibles widened, the hide around his eyes pulled tight. She gave him a wicked smile as she traced her index under his jaw, stopping at his chin. She felt the shudder under her fingertip, his hot exhale on her face. “Exactly how good is your sense of smell, Garrus?”
And, with a colossal effort, she dropped her hand and took a step back. She gave a little helpless wave. “So no, I don’t want the crew to see me like this.”
He was still leaning against the wall, staring, so she half-turned away to give him a moment to compose himself. Herself.
“Oh. Morinth… I see.” She nodded mutely, still averting her gaze. “Can I help?”
She wheeled on him, abruptly furious. “Don’t you dare mock me!”
This time, Garrus didn’t step back. He met her angry gaze head on and stepped up right in front of her, drawn to his full height. “I’m not joking,” he thrummed. “Would it help? This isn’t where and when I’d imagined, but you know I’m willing.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, trembling with restraint. “Don’t unless you really mean it. I have very little self-control right now.”
His piercing eyes didn’t leave hers. “I mean it.”
She grabbed the collar of his armor and jumped, and he caught her with a groan. Victoria crushed her lips against his stiff mouth plates and grabbed him by the fringe. He shuddered, hands flexing on her behind, and the barely dammed up lust flooded through her, primal and deep. She squeezed her legs around his waist, the hard armor pinching against her naked thighs. She wanted him to feel this. She wanted to feel the muscles jump under her touch, the shiver on his skin and the groan in his chest.
She parted her lips and sucked on his upper mouth plate, her free hand reaching for the buckle at his shoulder.
“Spirits, Shep – ah – not here, wait.” He held her hand and stared at her with lowered mandibles and a stretched nose. Disheveled turian, even without hair and an unmoving fringe.
“We’re not making it all the way back to the Normandy,” she announced bluntly. “So if you don’t want a dark alley you better start working on one of these doors.”
She bent her head into his neck, knowing exactly how sensitive that was on a turian, and licked a slow stripe just above the collar of his undersuit. He let out a rumbling series of clicks her translator did not pick up and shoved his helmet into her hand before she could return to the buckle of his armor. A few quick steps and he was pressing her into a door, his lit omni-tool over the access pad. He had his head turned to look at the hacking interface, and she tightened her knees on his hips to push herself up, high enough to kiss the nearest fringe blade, to lick the underside.
He keened a high note without words, pure subvocals, his fist thumping impatiently against the access pad. Victoria smirked and closed her lips around the fringe tip. A huff interrupted the keen and they stumbled inwards as the door opened.
The overhead lights were off, but through the red glow of the safety light strips showing the way to the exits, Victoria saw it was an office. Garrus whirled to close the door and started working on the security system screen next to it. A chair, a desk, a clean floor, plenty of good options, she thought as her mind provided a few very vivid images for each. Arousal trickled wet through her folds. Garrus click-rumbled again, the plates of his nose moving together and apart with his rapid breathing.
“You can smell me, can’t you?”
“Spirits, yes. Work faster, damnit,” he swore at his omni-tool.
She leaned her shoulders back against the wall, clearing a few inches between them. Garrus threw her a look out of the corner of his eye, then turned to stare hotly when she trailed her hand down, pausing briefly at her breast, then down over her stomach, curling around her waist in a move she hoped was enticing to a turian, to her soaked underwear. Garrus’s gaze followed her hand all the way down. She pushed her underwear aside, sucking in a breath at the touch against her hot, aching flesh.
“Do I smell good?”
“Yes,” he rumbled, so deep and rough she had to strain to hear him under her own pants.
She dipped a finger in, her muscles squeezing deliciously of their own volition. Garrus made a high keening note again, staring down. She wondered whether he could see anything in the relative darkness.
“Do you think I would taste good?”
She pulled her finger up, and Garrus eagerly leaned in, his long, whip-like tongue curling around her digit and wiping it clean. His omni-tool beeped and the security panel flashed green, the best-timed hack ever, and Garrus hoisted her off the wall and to the desk. He put her down on the edge and bent his head readying to move down, but she grabbed the collar of his armor and hauled him up and away roughly.
“No.” His mandibles flared and she could see him struggling through his arousal to try and understand what he’d done wrong. “No, you don’t get to taste me right now. I want something more. Bigger.” She smirked. “Hopefully.”
“Oh will I ever deliver on that wish.”
He straightened and started unbuckling his breastplate. She helped him, the ablative pieces clattering to the floor in quick succession. He struggled with his last boot while she tore at the claps of his undersuit on his neck and around his chest. Finally, finally she pulled the last concealment away. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen his skin, but it was certainly the first time where she was free to ogle without being a pervert. He was large, warm, hard, masculine in his alien way, plates shifting over chords of muscle criss-crossing his torso from the wide bony collar to his hips. In the middle of which there was a tight stretch in his undersuit.
She pulled the suit down carefully, and could see that indeed he would deliver on her wish. She swallowed thickly, sweat sticking her hair to the nape of her neck. He was longer and wider than a human, though not outlandishly so. Like a large dildo. If dildos were bright powder blue, lubricated, with a tapered instead of bulbous head, and attached to a seven-foot alien rumbling something wordless and primal.
A wave of excitement at the immediacy of the moment, of how close they finally were to actually having sex, made her squeeze her legs together with a moan as she turned her back to him.
“Unzip me,” she ordered.
He fumbled at the nape of her neck for a few moments before he managed to grab the small zipper tab. She could feel the hard tips of his talons on her skin. When she felt the dress loosen, she threw him a look over her shoulder, flipping her short hair, and pulled the dress slowly off her shoulders. His hands wrapped around her waist. They were warm, soft and with a grip to their texture like leather. They slipped under the dress, sliding it off her hips as he nuzzled against the nape of her neck.
Part of her wanted to be playful, to make him work on her bra, but the larger part of her, that was dripping wet and spasming with empty ache, was too impatient. She unhooked her bra, then laid her hands over Garrus’s and glided them down to her hips, to the line of her underwear. He caught the hint and slid them down.
She turned and pushed him down into the chair. It must have been a krogan’s, because Garrus leaned back, large shoulders squared, legs parted around his very stiff erection, and there was space to spare on the seat. This turian, brilliant, loyal, strong and well-built; he was all hers. Willing. His hands returned to her hips when she paused, standing between his knees in nothing but her stiletto heels.
She put her hands over his and pressed his fingers into her flesh. She felt feverish and frantic. “If there’s no scratches here later, I’ll be disappointed.”
He did the rumble-click again, squeezing and pulling her when she straddled him. She rolled her hips forward, sliding his slick length between her folds, then lifted as a continuation of the move and sank down partway. It stretched and burned in urgent ache, and she threw her head back on a drawn-out groan. She moved up and down with slow, fluid rolls of her hips a few times, until the stretch was easy and comfortable, and she felt the retracted plates at his pelvis against her lips.
Victoria looked down at Garrus, found him watching her hotly with half-lidded eyes, his mandibles low and parted around a continuous rumble of subvocals. She moved one hand from his shoulder to splay it on top of his chest, feeling the vibration in her palm. She wondered whether this was just a side-effect of arousal, like her flushed skin, or if he was expressing something specific. Her translator wasn’t picking it up if he was.
“Good?” she asked.
“Yes, Shepard, Spirits, yes.”
She grabbed the bony ring around his shoulders and shook him slightly. “You call me Victoria. And some flattery wouldn’t hurt.” She lifted and then slammed down, moaning with the delicious, deep fill.
He huffed but didn’t miss a beat. “You feel so good, Victoria.” His hands caressed her thighs and her waist. “Smooth, strong. Soft.” He pushed off the chair to bury his face in her neck. “So soft.” His tongue flicked out, licking sweat along her collarbone.
She’d found her rhythm now, bouncing faster, pleasure ratcheting up with each stroke. She grabbed his fringe again, she was so warm, she caressed the underside and then the soft skin just below. She used her nails lightly, and he shuddered under her with a growl, alien and primal and so, so hot.
“Flatter me more,” she panted.
He laughed breathlessly into her shoulder. “You’re so tight, but giving.” One of his hands moved down her thigh, then back up, sliding between their bodies. Oh, he had done his research hadn’t he? She whimpered with anticipation, hot sweat breaking all over her skin. His thumb caressed carefully through her trimmed curls a few times before he found the right spot. She shivered and arched with a mewl, breaking her rhythm. He did it again. “Like a glove, Victoria. You fit me like a glove, I can feel you stretch around me and it’s –”
She didn’t hear the end of his sentence, lost in the rush of white static in her brain and wringing pleasure in her core. Ecstasy crested and crashed. She came down to herself panting, sprawled over Garrus’s thrumming chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, just catching her breath, enjoying his hot skin. She felt light but clear-headed, the worst of Morinth’s narcissism and horniness having receded below self with the intense rush of orgasm having reset her brain.
She pushed up, looking down at Garrus. She felt suddenly self-conscious, of the mess on their stomachs and her behavior having led them there. The turian skimmed the top of her left shoulder and her hips. Looking down at herself, she saw a spot of reddened skin on her shoulder and faint scratches at her hips.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She ignored the scratches on her skin she’d all but begged for. “Much better. Like myself. I, uh… I should probably apologize for jumping you like that.”
He chuckled. “No complaint here, Vic, you’re hot when you’re horny.” He sobered, mandibles pulling up to cover his teeth. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing, for ignoring the fact you were impaired.”
She cupped his face in both hands and leaned down to deposit a soft kiss on his mouth. Her lips fit very well in the half-moon indent of his upper lift, she thought. Then she remembered how turians expressed intimate affection, and rested her forehead and nose against his. He made a high-pitched chirp just at the edge of her hearing and his arms came up around her. Her insides melted with fondness and something close to regret, for his sake.
“Garrus, did you think this was only because of Morinth? I jumped you in an alley on Omega because Morinth messed with my head. But I’ve wanted you for a while, and I wouldn’t have done this with any other crewmember who came to check on me.”
Garrus sighed, his breath hot and sweetly musky on her face. “I just… So many things in my life went wrong, Shep – Victoria. My work in C-Sec, my squad… I want something to go right, for once.”
She closed her eyes and held his face against her. Then she kissed his nose. “Here we are, Garrus, and I’d say it went pretty damn stellar. Now, if you were inclined to do this again sometime, I have to warn you we set the bar pretty high today. I’m not sure I can reproduce sex-crazed-by-interrupted-ardat-yakshi on demand.”
Garrus chuckled, low and sexy. “That might be better, actually. Don’t mistake me, this was amazing, but I’d like my turn on top too.”
She smiled and kissed him again. “Can’t wait.”