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In Command	By : CyberII Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 6314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Mass Effect or characters, writing for fun, but not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-In Command
- 2-Pt.2
- 3-Pt.3
- 4-Fin.
- 1
- 2
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His long tongue snaked around her neck, making her buck her hips, grinding against his codpiece. Sweet Jesus, just a mere thought of the things he could do with that tongue made her cheeks turn scarlet.

“Miranda,” he breathed out in her ear, heavy subvocals rumbling through their bodies, “I’ve always admired your directness, your courage, your dedication. Those are, ah, very turian qualities, and you have the guts for that straightforward approach of yours; otherwise you won’t ever dare to start this conversation with someone like me. I can go away, leaving you here, hot and bothered, alone in your misery. Or you can find the strength to stay straightforward – and admit your desires; and I promise I’ll find a way to make you never regret it.”

His long arms traveled along her body, one hand tentatively grope her breast; he wasn’t so sure what to do with them though, but his hot narrow palm rubbed her already erect nipple through the suit. Another hand settled between her legs, inactive, yet radiating inhuman heat. Miranda felt her libido betraying her; not that she has anything to lose since she learned she’s not able to…

“Fine,” she whispered, breathing deep, “You won. I… I really want you, Archangel. Please…”

She caught a sound of him thanking the Spirits under his breath, it made her heart flutter – he hoped for her to accept. He nuzzled at her neck, talons digging into the cleavage of her suit.

“Kinky,” he murmured, “You want him, huh? The Omega legend? It’s your luck I can arrange that…”

“For me you are him,” she whispered, “I never knew you before like Shepard did. You impressed me as Archangel, and I don’t mind you bled all over my gloves just a bit later…”

There was a silence, while he buried his face in her long dark hair. She felt his steady breath on her skin, scorching hot, sensually tingling.

“I start to feel bad about burying him,” he chuckled finally, “Maybe that Archangel legend still has the potential…”

He fondled her body, delicate fingers tracing her curves. She didn’t expect a turian to be that gentle actually.

“At least he’s still alluring to women of, ah, various species,” he mused rather bitterly.

Miranda felt like she has to do something. She took his glove-free hand, bringing it to her face, rubbing his slender wrist with her cheek, kissing its underside, feeling his thin bones and rapid pulse.

“You are Archangel,” she whispered, touching his knuckles with her lips, “Don’t let your loss overwhelm the worthy initiative. No one is perfect…”

“It’s fun to hear from a perfect human woman,” he purred in her ear.

She wasn’t so sure how did she end up in this. Once he was all aggressive and probably willing to rip her throat out, next she was stunned by his dominance over her, and then was his tender and passionate approach, really unexpected, yet not unwelcome. But of all things that she could imagine Project Lazarus may lead her to – a turian, Miri, seriously? What was wrong with her physiology that made her submit to his persistence? Does she have any idea of how it would work with someone that different?

She desperately needed to stop thinking, she told herself. She shifted under him, twisting her body to face him, throwing her arms around his neck, trying to keep in mind not to disturb his injured side much. Miranda pulled his face closer, pressing her lips fiercely against his hard mouthplates, not giving a damn if he’s able to return that gesture. His mandibles fluttered against her cheeks in amazement when she ran an experimental hand along his unarmored part of neck, alien feeling of random scales on his hot suede skin. Hesitant, he opened his mouth slightly; the tip of his tongue touched her lips, encouraging her to entwine her own tongue with his. He seemed to be a quick learner, letting the strong roughly textured muscle to cautiously explore her mouth; intent eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Figures,” the turian smirked, when they broke a kiss, “I saw humans doing that thing many times on the Citadel, never though I’m going to try it myself.”

“Then you have a whole bunch of sexy human things to try,” Miranda gave him a wink, “I bet my perfect ass on it.”

“Ah, looking forward to it, but… Hate to lift myself from you,” he murmured, propping himself up on his arms, “But my armor gets really uncomfortable at this point.”

Garrus straightened up, leaving her on the floor just to run hasty fingers over the clasps of his battered armor. Miranda slid up the wall on shaky legs, eyeing up him undressing. One by one, pieces of his armor dropped on the floor discarded, until he was just in his underarmor, black with silver and blue lining, looking breathtakingly tall and lithe without that bulkiness. Hell, she saw lots of turians in their civil clothes, she knew they are naturally slim, but she never was that aroused before, as she was now admiring long graceful lines of his body.

“Won’t you mind if I raise temperature a little here?” he turned to the room climate control panel, “Your human preset is a bit chilly for my taste.”

She approached him, embraced his rigid body from behind, snaking her arms around that impossibly slim waist, leaning into his body heat. That felt so catastrophically wrong. That felt so unimaginably right.

“Sure, anything for your comfort,” her hand slid down his flat abdomen, feeling lean muscles shifting slightly with his deep breath, tenderly cupped the large bulge building in his groin area – Garrus inhaled sharply, his body strained in her arms. She stroke his length gently through the fabric of underarmor, noted absentmindedly that part of his anatomy is even hotter than the rest of him; his hardness proving he’s very willing to continue what they started.

Rough three-fingered hand covered her palm, guiding it to the fastener, allowing her to take part in stripping him off. Her fingers trembled with agitation, all four of their hands worked on divesting him, baring his broad shoulders, narrowing descent of overlapping silvery plates with light terracotta skin patches between them. Impatiently Miranda slid her hand in his pants, not waiting for him to peel the suit off completely; he froze, when she felt his pulsing slick shaft in her searching hand. She ran gentle fingers along its impressive length, mesmerized by the alien texture, ridged yet smooth. Weird, unfamiliar, but not repulsive.

“Your hand is cold,” his soft voice brought her out of her daze. “Not too cold for that touch to become unpleasant though.”

“I’m just warming up,” Miranda giggled, feeling surprisingly lightheaded when she managed to pull the remains of his clothes down his lean thighs.

It was blue.

It was magnificent compared to average human size, but it was that incredible shade of cobalt blue which left Miranda stunned. She gingerly touched a turian cock with her fingertips to ensure it’s real.

“Something wrong?” she heard deep concern in Garrus’ voice.

“N-no,” she breathed out quickly, wrapping her hand around his girth, “Just too wonderfully right to believe.”

“Ah, good,” his angular body relaxed a bit in her embrace, flanging in his voice growing heavier as he obviously enjoyed her fingers exploring that area, “I… wasn’t so sure… if I’m too, ah, alien… for you…”

She gave him a harder stroke, whispered.

“Don’t even start it… “

Her lips trailed the edges of the plates on his back in search for small sensitive skin patches, one arm around his slim waist, the other studying his reaction to different kind of touch down there. Not so different from human males – he had a cock and loved the attention to it. His light sigh turned into low moan – melodious like chords, combined of tones impossible to emit from any voice box other than turian. She felt the rumbling of that sound deep in his chest, pressed her body to his back as hard as it was possible, humming dreamy in his prominent armored spine. Hearing, no, making him moaning like that overflowed her with a heat wave of excitement. She wanted to hear that delicious sound again and again.

That was it, the final encouragement she needed to set up her mind. Garrus Vakarian – no, the famous Archangel himself allowed her to get under his armor, and now he was in her arms, naked, vulnerable, hard, moaning because of her touching his most intimate part; that gave her an amazing feeling of her power over him and his – over her. Maybe the suicidal haste of their mission sharpened their sensual desires, but it was the moment worth to savor, logic off.

“More sounds like that, Garrus, and you won’t even have to touch me to get me off,” Miranda rubbed her cheek against his shoulder blade – or somewhere it should be located under the plating.

“Are you warning or encouraging me?” he replied, smiling over his shoulder, “Maybe we can work it out how to add the touching too?”

She stepped around him to stand before his eyes – they were scorching hot as a blue flame of wielding torch. Miranda felt like his glare could cut the clothes off her body, and even if he does she was in no mood to protest.

She slid the zipper of her suit down, locking her gaze with his, revealing her porcelain skin to him. He questioningly stared down on her buxom breasts, hardly covered with skimpy triangles of half-transparent lace. Turians aren’t mammals, she remembered, their women have no milk glands. Yet she had no hesitation in showing him all the advantages of interspecies affair.

“Since you asked for a touch – here’s something for you to touch, big guy,” Miranda worked her arms out of the sleeves, leaving the upper part of her suit to hang loose around her waist. She took his long hand and gently placed on her breast, his thumb on her nipple.

“Try it, just mind your talons…”

Garrus rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, are you thinking of me as some kind of beast or uplifted barbarian?”

He slightly pressed his fingerpads into her soft mound.

“We have built advanced technologies with those hands. We became a spacefaring race centuries before your species learned your planet isn’t flat and your sun doesn’t spin around it…”

He let out a hearty laughter, observing mixed emotions on her face.

“One of the random things learned from the Extranet. Thought it’s too hilarious to remember.”

“I… apologize,” Miranda frowned, “That obviously wasn’t my best line for occasions like… this. It’s just… they look dangerous.”

“I know,” he carefully traced her chin with the tip of his talon, “They are. But unless that drives you wild, you won’t be acquainted to them, not now.”

He quickly stepped out of the heap of his underarmor, caught the woman by her waist and dragged to a chair nearby. He sat down, placing her on his bony lap, examining the zippers on her suit.

“Nevertheless, I think you owe me a good apology,” he unclasped her belt, “Or I can comment on your human squishiness and see how you like it.”

He took off her boot, gave it a thoughtful look, then her foot.

“Why do you need that many digits on your feet?”

“Sure, I’ll apologize in any way you want me to,” she let out a sniggle, “I can keep the boots on if you want it. Just let us close this topic.”

“Oh, you can?” the turian tilted his head, “Sounds like a good idea, a little less of confusing human anatomy… for the first time. At least I’m used to see you in them.”

“Fine,” Miranda kicked off the second boot to slide her suit down, he stopped her to do it himself. Cautiously, as if he was expecting to discover something horrifying, he worked the fabric past her curvy hips. Hummed acknowledgedly at the sight of matching lace panties. Then rolled the suit all the way down her legs. He took a long look at them, making her almost uncomfortable, and then ran his fingerpads from her heel along her ankle and calf to the knee.

His long arm reached out for her scattered boots.

“So, anything particular on your mind?” she pulled on the boot-top. He shook his head, hands exploring her pliable curves. It felt… amazing, like her skin is melting under that hot touch.

“Why do you wear… this?” he tugged lightly on her bra strap, “Those bits are too tiny to cover… anything.”

“It’s not just about covering, it supports…”

“Nah-ah,” Garrus slid his palms under her breasts, feeling their weight, “It doesn’t support much either.”

“And it’s sexy,” she added, laying her hands on his on top of her chest. He curiously eyed a valley between them going even deeper, when she pressed them together.

“So that is sexy for humans… Noted. Now all the clothes giving a clear shot of that area start to make sense for me,” he teased her. Miranda pursed her lips, he brushed them with his tongue, making her smile involuntarily.

“Hey, I’m only learning to appreciate your species… in this context. Was it that easy for you with me?”

“Not really,” she planted light kisses on his mouthplates and uninjured mandible, “But there are also things aside from your appearance that make you even more attractive.”

“Is that the right moment to say you’re beautiful?” he nipped lightly on her neck.

Words that simple shouldn’t strike her, tired of obtrusive males drooling over every inch of her perfect body. He didn’t say her anything like he loves her, wants to be with her, never going to let her go… None of these cheesy pathetic lies she abhorred, yet she got most of the time from desperate human machos repeatedly trying and failing in getting in her panties. Something about this alien guy was so… sincere and fresh. And he already was closer to her panties than anyone in a long time.
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In Command