[Mass Effect] (untitled) - Female!Shepard/Garrus
Length: 1200 words
Rating: R for rather tame M/F sex and bondage
Notes: Kind of awkward to write (turian anatomy textbook plz?).
Handcuffs seem to be a near universal concept, she ponders as the shackles close around her wrists. Where-ever there is crime, the need arises for a device to temporarily disable criminals, and crime, she has learned, is not a uniquely human thing. The knowledge is somewhat comforting, but at the same time, somewhat depressing.
Back on Earth, the nature of the device hasn't changed much since those old gangster films from the mid-1900s she used to watch as a kid. She could chalk up the difference to turian design, but she's pretty sure even turian cuffs don't come with soft leather covers by default, much less ones with such a distinctively hand-made look to them.
But she is not about to complain when they are attached to the wall and support most of her weight, when it's just her bare toes touching the cool metal floor.
"Fascinating." A single talon-tipped finger traces a path down across her ribs, a slow, lazy half-circle around her left breast - a touch light enough to tickle, and she squirms. It doesn't deter him. No, she thinks, straining against her restraints, it probably excites him more than anything else. She knows it'd excite her.
"I had never considered using these for... unsanctioned activities."
"C-sec probably - didn't expect you to - either." The wall gives her some leverage, but it isn't quite enough; she can't escape.
He tries to hide it, but she sees his features briefly twist into the turian version of a grin, and then that finger travels lower, across her flank to her hip, then up again. She bites her lip but can't help but whimper when he starts down again.
"Fascinating," he repeats, but mercifully begins to move that finger in behind her, until his hand settles on her hip, large and rough. His thumb strokes her stomach, and she squirms again, though not for the same reason.
He looks up at her, completely innocent, or as innocent as a turian can look, at any rate. "I thought you wanted to be teased."
She growls and tugs at the cuffs. "I changed my mind."
Garrus chuckles dryly. "Is that an order, Commander?"
She claws at the cuffs over her head, braces herself and raises her legs, lunges and wraps them around his waist. Ridges and plates dig into her skin as she locks her ankles behind his back, pulling him close, and he stumbles towards her; his thumb talon scrapes her skin as he moves away to catch himself before he slams her against the wall.
Hands against the wall, he is completely defenseless when she begins to nip at the exposed skin of his neck. This time, he is the one who shivers when she raises her head to hiss in his ear:
"Damn straight it is."
He laughs again, and his body shifts a little as he pulls his hands back and eases them in behind her, then slides them down, fingers tracing her spine.
"I wouldn't want you to shoot me for refusal to obey orders."
"I wouldn't shoot you." She tightens her legs around him as he reaches below her, cupping her buttocks, and stops there - supporting her weight, but not idly; she can feel his fingers moving, stroking, kneading. "But if you're not nice, I'll... make you sit through that Hamlet production with an all Elcor cast."
"Commander!" She stifles a giggle at the mock horror in his voice. "I believe even a Spectre would get in trouble for that."
"You wouldn't want me to get in trouble, would you?"
He sighs, theatrically. "I suppose not."
"So?" She wiggles a bit, breasts pressing against his chest plates.
"I should stop teasing you." His grip shifts; hands slowly sliding out, stroking her thighs. She swallows, suddenly finds her mouth dry.
"That's best for all involved," she says, and slowly begins to relax her legs. As soon as she does, his hands are underneath her again, supporting her.
Then she feels him sink lower, feels the now familiar sensation of smooth, hard plates sliding over her skin. The carapace is usually noticeably cooler than his skin, but it doesn't take long for it to warm when their bodies press together. Now, the air is cool against her where she can no longer feel him, but she's pretty sure that has nothing to do with the tightening sensation in her nipples.
Moments later he's nuzzling her breasts, and she closes her eyes and purrs, concentrating on the sensation. Turian lips are hard; their teeth are sharp, and it seems impossible for his touch to be as gentle as it is. When he tugs at her with those needle-like teeth, she feels no pain, but simply exhilaration.
"Don't tease," she whispers when his slow, lingering kisses and the desire coiling in her stomach become too much, and this time she only feels him smile, before he begins to move lower once more.
"Yes," she breathes when he finally kneels before her and raises her legs onto his shoulders; she shivers when she feels his warm breath playing over her moistened sex.
Lets out a high-pitched, raw noise and arches her back, arms and shoulders straining against the cuffs when his tongue follows, softly brushing against her.
Her legs tremble as her thighs clamp over his ears, hard enough that she can feel the texture of the scars on his cheek.
Garrus doesn't let it stop him. Supporting her weight on his shoulders, he raises his hands to cup her breasts; large, warm hands, not like a human's, but dry and textured like rough leather; sharp-tipped fingers gentle and precise as they squeeze, stroke and tug. His tongue is slick, hot, long and powerful, and every caress sends hot, fizzy sensations through her body, like little bubbles of pleasure gathering low in her belly and bursting out through her arms and legs, making her fingers and toes curl. She gasps and moans, whimpers and writhes - and this time, he doesn't tease her.
This time, he does exactly what she'd be begging him to do if she could only catch her breath, if she could only find her voice for a few seconds. His tongue moves faster, his hands grip her tighter; his fingers pinch her nipples roughly, stopping right at the point just before pleasure turns to pain, and... the world seems to disintegrate around her.
She pulls at the cuffs with every ounce of strength in her cybernetically enhanced body and thinks she hears a groan of straining metal just before a sensation like a bolt of lightning shoots up her spine and explodes into a bright white light inside her head, blowing away every thought, every sensation other than pure, undiluted bliss.
She is barely conscious when he releases the cuffs and carries her to bed. Barely registers the light stinging and the familiar warm, tingly sensation of medigel on her inner thighs. Cuts and scrapes she didn't even feel when she got them - but she's used to that by now. He is, too. At least, he has stopped commenting.
Garrus is a dark blur against the bright ceiling when she opens her eyes.
"I seem to have escaped the Elcor," he tells her, and she laughs, reaches up for him; drapes her arms around his neck, completely powerless.
"Damn straight you did," she whispers, and for a few precious moments, neither of them has a worry in the world.