Worth It [Mass Effect, Garrus/femShep, NC-17]
Title: Worth It
Author: Eike (yhibiki)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Mass Effect, fem!Shepard/Garrus Vakarian: Post-final battle, angst; desperate sex/sex to feel alive - "And I need you to recover / Because I can't make it on my own."
Notes: Ugh, almost didn't think I'd get this out in time. It was hell to write, because as much as I love this pairing, holy hell do I overthink the mechanics of alien sex. So I decided not to think about it. Also I feel like I hit the prompt only somewhat marginally, but I hope it works out okay despite it all.
Set right after the end of ME2, so there are SPOILERS if you haven't beaten the second game.
They stumble in through the doors, tired and breathless and alive. Still wearing their battle-worn armor; cuts and bruises still fresh.
It's hard not to pull him onto her immediately, to kiss his scarred face and confirm they both survived. She holds back, until the cabin door has been locked, EDI turned off, and armor carefully removed.
“Looks like you've got a couple of new scars coming,” Shepard comments. She gently runs a finger along a gash down Garrus's back; he shivers at the touch.
“You too. But I'm glad we got away with only a few scars. It could have been a lot worse.” Garrus turns to face her and place a hand carefully on her hip. She notices with a bit of amusement that his nails have been filed down -- probably because of the scratches he had accidentally given her last time. Shepard sighs and leans in, bumping her forehead against his.
“Do we want to shower first?” she asks.
“Might be a good idea, yeah. Would hate to see one of us get an allergic reaction just because we accidentally ingested the wrong blood.”
Shepard pulls back and raises an eyebrow at him. “You say the most romantic things, Garrus.”
“No, I mean--”
“Come on, smooth-talker. Let's hit the showers.” Shepard smils, pulling him into the bathroom. There's plenty of room for the two of them; she's somewhat glad the new Normandy was designed with luxury in mind, instead of military pragmatism. The water is warm instantly, the gentle stream doing its job at washing away surface dirt and grime and blood.
Garrus reaches forward to grab the soap; his chest bumps into her back. The contact is rough -- turian exoskeletons feel like sandpaper compared to human skin. Shepard doesn't care. And Garrus, maybe he can't quite feel it when she softly brushes her hand against his thigh, but he feels the pressure when she squeezes, and it makes him give a low growl. She smiles to herself. In a certain sense, he's not so different from human men.
“Shepard-- here, let me get your back,” he says, already lathering the soap across her shoulders. He's gentle, careful not to let his exoskeleton scratch at her skin.
“I know you've always got my back, Garrus,” she murmurs softly. For a moment she thinks he didn't hear her over the sound of the rushing water, but he wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles into her shoulder.
“I thought I was going to lose you, Shepard,” Garrus confesses. It strikes her then: the collectors, the harbringer, the reaper, the explosions -- she's lucky to be alive. They are all lucky to be alive. A second later, she would have missed that final jump. A second longer, and maybe the crew would be dead, ground to a pulp by that... thing.
Shepard turns around in his grasp, so that they are facing each other, and places a kiss on his chest. Garrus doesn't understand kisses, he said, but it makes her feel better. The water continues to stream over them.
They're here. Neither of them a rotting corpse in space -- she's done that once before, and there's no way she's going out like that again. She won't let Garrus leave her like that either, and she reaches up to hook her arms around his neck. He shivers slightly at that, her hand brushing against flesh that isn't used to contact. “Garrus, there's no use in worrying about what-ifs. The only thing that matters is right here, right now.”
She doesn't wait for his response before she leans up to nibble along his mandibles. He sighs at that, his grip on her hips tightening marginally. And when she takes a step back to lean against the wall, he wastes no time in putting his tongue to good use. How inconvenient that turians don't have lips, she had thought before; now, she appreciates the extra dextrous tongue they have instead.
While Garrus gets on his knees, Shepard reaches into the soft spot under his backplate, one of the few areas where soft flesh is exposed. His tongue stops moving for a second while Garrus groans, but then he's working harder, trailing down to her thighs and moving to lick at her clit. A jolt of pleasure rushes through her, making her knees wobble for just a split second. The shower is probably not a good place for this, not if she wants to avoid chafing (she has to thank, or kill, Mordin for that warning), but she doesn't give a damn right now.
All she wants is for Garrus to be with her, to remind her just how much alive they both are. Doesn't matter if she'll hurt a bit after this; the bruises and injuries she sustained during the fight against the reapers are worse anyway.
“Shepard,” Garrus moans, somehow -- turian physiology, she reminds herself-- with his tongue inside her.
Yeah. She doesn't need soft and slow right now. “On your feet, Garrus,” she commands, feeling guilty at her tone until Garrus complies with a grin on his face.
“Anything for you, Commander,” he says cheekily, although the smirk disappears the moment she's got her hand on his cock, replaced by pleasure. (Was hard as hell to tell the difference between pleasure and pain, on a turian. Garrus had to reassure her that she had not been hurting him that first time, and wasn't that a joke.)
“Fuck me hard, Garrus. Right here against the shower wall,” she says, lifting a leg to rest on his hip -- exactly where legs were supposed to go, apparently, during normal turian intercourse.
“Here? What about... you know. Chafing?” He sounds a bit worried, although Shepard can't help but notice it doesn't stop him from cupping a hand under her ass and pulling her up so she's fully supported by him and the wall, doesn't stop his cock from pressing hard against her opening.
“Don't care. Water's good enough,” she answers, leaning forward to kiss his mandibles again. She's got one hand around his neck, the other reaches down to pump his dick again. She feels him tremble, and for a brief second she considers the irony of them dying because they slipped and cracked their heads open during shower sex. She decides she'll take the risk. “Fuck me, right now. That's an order.”
Garrus laughs in between gasps of breath. “Roger that, Commander.”
The first thrust is slow, careful, until Shepard growls “faster,” and then later, “harder.” Her thighs are rubbing against his hips with every thrust, and she can already feel her skin getting raw against the sandpaper friction.
She's going to be sore as hell tomorrow. But it will be so fucking worth it.
Author: Eike (yhibiki)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Mass Effect, fem!Shepard/Garrus Vakarian: Post-final battle, angst; desperate sex/sex to feel alive - "And I need you to recover / Because I can't make it on my own."
Notes: Ugh, almost didn't think I'd get this out in time. It was hell to write, because as much as I love this pairing, holy hell do I overthink the mechanics of alien sex. So I decided not to think about it. Also I feel like I hit the prompt only somewhat marginally, but I hope it works out okay despite it all.
Set right after the end of ME2, so there are SPOILERS if you haven't beaten the second game.
They stumble in through the doors, tired and breathless and alive. Still wearing their battle-worn armor; cuts and bruises still fresh.
It's hard not to pull him onto her immediately, to kiss his scarred face and confirm they both survived. She holds back, until the cabin door has been locked, EDI turned off, and armor carefully removed.
“Looks like you've got a couple of new scars coming,” Shepard comments. She gently runs a finger along a gash down Garrus's back; he shivers at the touch.
“You too. But I'm glad we got away with only a few scars. It could have been a lot worse.” Garrus turns to face her and place a hand carefully on her hip. She notices with a bit of amusement that his nails have been filed down -- probably because of the scratches he had accidentally given her last time. Shepard sighs and leans in, bumping her forehead against his.
“Do we want to shower first?” she asks.
“Might be a good idea, yeah. Would hate to see one of us get an allergic reaction just because we accidentally ingested the wrong blood.”
Shepard pulls back and raises an eyebrow at him. “You say the most romantic things, Garrus.”
“No, I mean--”
“Come on, smooth-talker. Let's hit the showers.” Shepard smils, pulling him into the bathroom. There's plenty of room for the two of them; she's somewhat glad the new Normandy was designed with luxury in mind, instead of military pragmatism. The water is warm instantly, the gentle stream doing its job at washing away surface dirt and grime and blood.
Garrus reaches forward to grab the soap; his chest bumps into her back. The contact is rough -- turian exoskeletons feel like sandpaper compared to human skin. Shepard doesn't care. And Garrus, maybe he can't quite feel it when she softly brushes her hand against his thigh, but he feels the pressure when she squeezes, and it makes him give a low growl. She smiles to herself. In a certain sense, he's not so different from human men.
“Shepard-- here, let me get your back,” he says, already lathering the soap across her shoulders. He's gentle, careful not to let his exoskeleton scratch at her skin.
“I know you've always got my back, Garrus,” she murmurs softly. For a moment she thinks he didn't hear her over the sound of the rushing water, but he wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles into her shoulder.
“I thought I was going to lose you, Shepard,” Garrus confesses. It strikes her then: the collectors, the harbringer, the reaper, the explosions -- she's lucky to be alive. They are all lucky to be alive. A second later, she would have missed that final jump. A second longer, and maybe the crew would be dead, ground to a pulp by that... thing.
Shepard turns around in his grasp, so that they are facing each other, and places a kiss on his chest. Garrus doesn't understand kisses, he said, but it makes her feel better. The water continues to stream over them.
They're here. Neither of them a rotting corpse in space -- she's done that once before, and there's no way she's going out like that again. She won't let Garrus leave her like that either, and she reaches up to hook her arms around his neck. He shivers slightly at that, her hand brushing against flesh that isn't used to contact. “Garrus, there's no use in worrying about what-ifs. The only thing that matters is right here, right now.”
She doesn't wait for his response before she leans up to nibble along his mandibles. He sighs at that, his grip on her hips tightening marginally. And when she takes a step back to lean against the wall, he wastes no time in putting his tongue to good use. How inconvenient that turians don't have lips, she had thought before; now, she appreciates the extra dextrous tongue they have instead.
While Garrus gets on his knees, Shepard reaches into the soft spot under his backplate, one of the few areas where soft flesh is exposed. His tongue stops moving for a second while Garrus groans, but then he's working harder, trailing down to her thighs and moving to lick at her clit. A jolt of pleasure rushes through her, making her knees wobble for just a split second. The shower is probably not a good place for this, not if she wants to avoid chafing (she has to thank, or kill, Mordin for that warning), but she doesn't give a damn right now.
All she wants is for Garrus to be with her, to remind her just how much alive they both are. Doesn't matter if she'll hurt a bit after this; the bruises and injuries she sustained during the fight against the reapers are worse anyway.
“Shepard,” Garrus moans, somehow -- turian physiology, she reminds herself-- with his tongue inside her.
Yeah. She doesn't need soft and slow right now. “On your feet, Garrus,” she commands, feeling guilty at her tone until Garrus complies with a grin on his face.
“Anything for you, Commander,” he says cheekily, although the smirk disappears the moment she's got her hand on his cock, replaced by pleasure. (Was hard as hell to tell the difference between pleasure and pain, on a turian. Garrus had to reassure her that she had not been hurting him that first time, and wasn't that a joke.)
“Fuck me hard, Garrus. Right here against the shower wall,” she says, lifting a leg to rest on his hip -- exactly where legs were supposed to go, apparently, during normal turian intercourse.
“Here? What about... you know. Chafing?” He sounds a bit worried, although Shepard can't help but notice it doesn't stop him from cupping a hand under her ass and pulling her up so she's fully supported by him and the wall, doesn't stop his cock from pressing hard against her opening.
“Don't care. Water's good enough,” she answers, leaning forward to kiss his mandibles again. She's got one hand around his neck, the other reaches down to pump his dick again. She feels him tremble, and for a brief second she considers the irony of them dying because they slipped and cracked their heads open during shower sex. She decides she'll take the risk. “Fuck me, right now. That's an order.”
Garrus laughs in between gasps of breath. “Roger that, Commander.”
The first thrust is slow, careful, until Shepard growls “faster,” and then later, “harder.” Her thighs are rubbing against his hips with every thrust, and she can already feel her skin getting raw against the sandpaper friction.
She's going to be sore as hell tomorrow. But it will be so fucking worth it.