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“Shepard, you can't keep pushing yourself like this. It isn't good for you.” Hackett stood in the doorway to Shepard's new office on Arcturus.
The deskbound Spectre pushed away from her terminal and stretched her limbs in front of her. “With all due respect, sir, I'm sleeping, eating and doing the required physiotherapy. I'm doing my job, but I'm bored as all hell here. Not adjusting well to the desk job. I need to keep busy, or I'll damn well lose my mind cooped up in here.”
“Shepard.” Hackett's voice held a warning that made her head snap up. “You need to look after yourself. If you're pulling,” He checked his omni-tool. “14 hour days every day, you won't be able to get back in the field. Your position with the council is hanging by a thread as it is. Your dedication is admirable, but it won't help you in the long run. What is actually wrong? I'm your commanding officer, it's my responsibility to make sure you're fit for duty. If you continue like this, you won't be for long.”
His tone lit a fire within her. Shepard found herself, against her better judgement, crossing the room until she was standing chest-to-chest with the Admiral, well inside his personal space. “Oh, I don't know, sir. Maybe it's that I've saved the galaxy three times over, and all I've got to show for it is some melted dog tags, a handful of medals and a made-up position that means nothing, really. Maybe it's that I've not had sex in three years, not including the two I was dead. Maybe it's just really bad PMS.”
Hackett's jaw actually dropped for a moment. He blinked down at her and took a deep breath, before a dangerous gleam appeared in his usually stoic blue gaze. “I can help with one of those.” He muttered.
Shepard suddenly became aware of the lack of distance between them. He was close, so close she could his feel his breath on her face as he spoke. And dear gods, he was tall. “Sir. You're not suggesting...? That's breaking a lot of regs, Admiral.”
“I know,” he whispered, even as his hand tangled in the back of her short dark hair and pulled her the extra couple of inches against him until her breasts were crushed flat against his chest and his mouth was on hers. The kiss was bruising, rough, passionate. Her lips parted beneath him and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with her own. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” He muttered against her mouth.
Eventually they came up for air. Breathlessly, she replied, “If you stop now, sir, I swear I'll shoot you, CO or not. We probably shouldn't be doing this in an open doorway though?”
“Good point.” Hackett placed a hand on her solar plexus and gently pushed until she staggered backwards and the backs of her knees hit the desk. He kicked the door shut behind him as he moved forward to kiss her again, his hands finding the button of her trousers and yanking them, with her underwear, to her ankles. “Up, and mind the terminal, sweetheart.”
She followed his command, and toed her boots and the clothes bunched around her ankles off quickly as she settled her rear against the cold metal of her desk. His fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, popping them open slowly and caressing the skin beneath almost reverently, until he reached the swell of her breast. His mouth teased the skin just above her bra as his hands continued to work at opening her shirt. With the last of the buttons freed, he stood, hovering above her, and pushed the fabric over her shoulders and down her arms until she was sitting, spread and bare before him except for her bra. One deft flick of his fingers at her back, and she was divested of that too.
Her nipples contracted in the cool air, as Hackett's hands moved to brush across her chest and he moved in close to kiss her again. The fabric of his dress shirt brushed across her bare and over-sensitive breasts, drawing a slightly pained gasp from the back of her throat, laced with arousal. “You're a bit overdressed, aren't you, sir?”She whimpered.
“Are you always so impatient, Shepard?” He complained, even as he began to unfasten the shirt maddeningly slowly.
“Generally, sir.” She replied, grabbing him roughly by the belt and yanking him back against her. Impatiently, with shaking hands, she fumbled at the buckle, suppressing the urge to cry out her victory when it came free and she could push what remained of his clothing down past his hips. His erection sprung forth, eager and throbbing with desire. By the gods, he's beautiful, she thought, the curve of his inner hip and the taut muscle with that perfect line of salt-and-pepper hair that goes all the way down... She swallowed nervously as she brought her eyes back up to meet his.
“See something you like, girl?” He smirked, leaning forwards until their lips were mere centimeters apart, but not closing the distance.
“I suppose you could say that.” She grinned, pushing the admiral back gently as she slid off the desk and dropped to her knees, planting a soft kiss at the glistening head of his manhood.
She teased him mercilessly with her mouth, all passionate licks and kisses from the base of his shaft to the tip, gentle suckling at the head, occasionally taking him all the way to the back of her throat until she almost gagged, then back up and flicking the tip of her tongue over a very sensitive spot just to the underside of him. She kept eye contact as much as she could, only breaking it when she couldn't help but moan around him and close her eyes in pleasure as he unintentionally jerked against her mouth and took a sharp but delightful intake of breath, or when his long, strong fingers carded through her hair and stroked gently over the biotic amp port at the base of her hairline.
He pulled her back by the hair none-too-gently when he grew dangerously close to his release. Guiding her to her feet, he pushed her back against the desk once more, his hands parting her thighs and exposing her sex to his scrutiny. When his fingers ghosted lightly over her core, flickering over her clit, she all but jumped out of her skin, the sensation of another's hand there was so foreign that she felt unable to breathe. As he repeated the movement, her reaction intensified until it was all at once far too much and not enough.
Shepard shoved him back impatiently, before turning 180 degrees and bending over the desk, presenting herself to him. “Fuck me, Admiral.” She demanded, and he complied, positioning himself at her entrance before pushing inside her at an excruciatingly slow pace.
She repositioned herself to take him in deeper as he rocked his hips against her, and oh dear gods she knew she wouldn't last long like this, with his strong grip on her hips, pulling her back onto him even as he thrust into her, her every nerve ending felt like it was on fire as he pulled almost completely out of her before slamming back home again, eliciting moans and groans from both of them. Her fingers were digging into the brushed aluminium desk so hard she'd be unsurprised if she was leaving scratch marks on the uncompromising metal.
The tension coiled within her as her world narrowed until there was only the demands of her body, the strength of his grip on her hips, the soft, passionate kisses he placed at the back of her neck. She was teetering on that knife-edge, about to come undone, when Hackett pulled out of her and spun her around so her back was to the desk again. Shepard whimpered, her legs were shaking so hard it was difficult to stand, and just as she was about to formulate some complaint, he lifted her onto the desk and surged back into her. He held her still for a long moment, making her look up into his icy blue stare, before kissing her slowly, his tongue flickering across her lips as he moved back. “I want to look at you,” he muttered against her mouth, a mutual sigh of pleasure escaping them as he rocked his hips gently against hers. “I want to see you when you come for me.”
Their movements increased in intensity as they both raced towards climax. It wasn't long before Shepard was a shuddering, uncontrolled mess beneath him. Her orgasm dragged him under, his thrusts growing erratic, their mouths meeting and silencing the moans of ecstasy.
It took Hackett a moment to recover before moving off her, pulling up his trousers and hunting around for his shirt. He found Shepard's first, holding it up for a second before realizing it was a couple of sizes too small to be his, and handed it to her. Eventually, he found his own shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it up while Shepard dressed herself. She was working on the top button of her own shirt when she spoke. “This probably shouldn't happen again, should it, sir?”
He looked up, surprised. “Why the hell not, Shepard?”
“Oh come on, you can't say this wouldn't be potential career suicide for either of us. You're a good man,” she paused and blushed a little before continuing, “and a damn good lay, sir, but I don't think you'd be willing to risk your career or mine for a casual screw.”
“You're right. I have no intention of risking anything for casual sex. But you,” he crossed the room in two long strides until he was towering above her, lifting her chin with his fingers and staring into her eyes. “You are the Hero of the Citadel, the woman who took down the Collectors and worked with a terrorist group to do it, risking everything to save the lives of people who wouldn't acknowledge you, you are the woman who defeated the Reapers, and has saved this galaxy countless times over. You've saved my life, countless times. You're an amazing woman, Shepard, and I want you. All of you, not just some sordid little office fling.” He leaned down and planted his lips on hers gently, almost adoringly. When he pulled back, she was breathless.
“How the hell is this going to work, then?” She muttered, dropping her head to lean against his chest.
“I thought we'd start with dinner, since it's getting late.” He chuckled, placing a soft kiss against her hair.
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine.”
“I'll get my coat.” She smiled.
End.