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The Competition	By : logsig123 Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 4311 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mass Effect series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
On the shuttle, as we head back to the Normandy, Thane thanks me for inviting him to the competition. "A very entertaining experience, Shepard. A rich source of memories."
"Yes," Legion agrees. "Much useful knowledge has been gained."
Garrus interjects, in a passable imitation of the Master Sergeant, "I have learned much about my comrades." He eyes me. "About myself, not really."
I smile. "I'm glad you all enjoyed it. I did too."
"Despite the darkness of life, there remain many pleasures," Thane remarks, to no-one in particular. "The joy of skilled competition is one, of course. The certainty of a friend who will fight with you, another." He is silent for a while. "And there are other pleasures that steel our hearts to bear the burdens that we must. But you know this."
Garrus stares at Thane narrowly. He seems about to say something, or perhaps punch him in the face, but just then the shuttle docks.
"Time to hit the shower," I say. "See you, Thane. Legion."
I head out of the shuttle bay to the elevator. I step in and hit the button for the top deck. But before the elevator can begin to move, the doors open again. Garrus walks in and pushes me up against the back wall.
"Horny, are we?" I say.
"Maybe winning excites me," he says.
"No, that can't be the reason," I shake my head. "You're horny all the time, and you really never win anything."
"Then maybe losing excites me."
"I like the sound of that." I try the elevator button again, and this time it does begin to move.
When the door opens, Garrus is trying to walk backwards and remove my armor at the same time, and succeeding at neither. I steer him through the door to my quarters and hit the lock.
"As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm," I say, "I do actually need to shower. I probably smell terrible."
"You generally do," he says. "But I've gotten used to it."
I flip him the finger. He laughs and lets go of me, electing to lean against my desk and watch while I finish the job he started--first by taking off my armor, then continuing to strip until I’m naked. He rumbles, low in his throat, and exhales slowly, looking at me. "Five minutes," I tell him, and step into the bathroom.
I’m rinsing the last of the soap off when the door opens and Garrus walks in. He's naked. I stop what I'm doing and look at him.
"Well, you did say five minutes," he says.
"It's only been four," I correct him.
He shakes his head. "How exactly do you know that? Do you play with your omnitool in the shower?" He grits his teeth and points one talon at me. "Please, don't try to make some terrible joke out of that."
"I really wasn't planning to," I say. "But now that you've brought it up, I'm not going to be able to think of anything else."
He chuckles. "Bet?" He steps closer.
I pull him under the falling water and press my body against his, savoring his warmth. I slide one hand down his spine, feeling the rough plates, the bones underneath. My other hand cups the back of his neck. He sighs, closes his eyes. I watch the water running down off his face.
"How does anyone keep their hands off you?" I say, quietly.
His eyes open. "It's hard," he says, with a serious expression. "I have to beat them off."
I wince. "I thought I was in charge of the bad jokes in this relationship."
"It's not a turian idiom," he admits. "I had to look it up on the extranet."
"So that's what you do with your time. Exactly how long have you been waiting to use that line?"
He grins. "Weeks."
I grab soap from the dispenser and begin gently working it into his fringe, using both hands. He looks surprised, but doesn't object. I work my way slowly down his face, his neck, down his torso and back. And as the running water washes the soap away, I follow its trail with my lips. His breathing is heavy, he's reaching one hand out to steady himself against the wall.
"John," he whispers. He's unplated, his cock hard and glistening. I continue onto his lower body, deliberately avoiding his erection. I have to drop to my knees to press my lips to his hips, his thighs, the spurs behind his knees. I move my hands slowly back up the inside of his legs, watching the water run down his cock.
"Please," he groans. "Please..." He strains desperately to be touched.
I oblige, soaping his length, then letting the water rinse it clean. Then I look up at him and wait, keeping still, until his eyes meet mine. When I'm sure I have his attention I lean forward and slide my lips down the side of his cock. He exhales raggedly, his breath catching in his throat. "Shit." He tenses. "John, you can't--"
"Not going to swallow," I mumble. Never thought I'd hear myself say that. Another long slide up to the tip. A low groan. I pause on the head of his cock, for one agonizing moment, hear him whimper, then let my lips part and sink deep down onto him, opening my throat. His groan is shock and pleasure and raw desire. I begin to move, a slow rhythm, in time with his breathing. I feel talons digging into the back of my neck, drawing blood. I moan around him, and he moans with me. My hand is on the inside of his thigh, and his pulse throbs under the tips of my fingers. I move faster now, feeling his need.
"John--" he says. His voice is harsh, fighting for control. I pull away and stand, reaching for his hip with one hand. I look into his eyes as the fingers of my other hand move over the ridges of his cock, as my fist tightens around him and resumes the rhythm. He throws his head back, eyes closed, breathing in gasps. I press my lips to his throat. His hips buck, his warm fluids spilling between us.
He leans against me, just breathing, for a moment. Then he says, "Maybe we should leave some water for the rest of the crew. Let's move this discussion to the bedroom."
"Very considerate of you," I say. I rinse my mouth, clean up and step out of the shower. I dry myself with my towel before heading to the closet to get him another, clean one. But when I turn around, he's already walking out of the bathroom, dripping water everywhere.
"Garrus, what the fuck," I say.
"You took the towel," he says.
"I was getting you another, genius." I throw the new towel at his face. "And you might want to think about keeping some clean clothes in here too. I can clear out a shelf."
He pauses in mid-towel. "That's a bit... weird, isn't it?"
I shrug. "Suit yourself. It's your problem."
He finishes drying off. I can see he's thinking about something. That's the last thing I want, so I lunge and grab his legs from under him. He lands on the floor hard, with none of his usual grace, and then I'm on him, finding all the soft spots on the backs of his joints and digging a knuckle into them. He yells in pain and laughter, squirms, but doesn't retaliate. Instead he catches my head in his hands, talons resting gently on my face, and waits till I look up into his face.
"I had something different in mind," he says softly. His eyes are liquid pools, and the heat of his body, the roughness of his skin on mine, are suddenly incredibly arousing. I feel my cock hardening. He feels it too, and chuckles. His talons graze my back in long strokes, making me shudder. His teeth on the side of my neck. He shifts under me, and his cock, hard again, slides against mine, hot and slick. I groan. I move, to feel that slide again. And again.
"If you were a biotic," he says, hoarsely, "Maybe you would be able to open the drawer of your bedside table from here, and we wouldn't have to get up."
"Yet another of my many deficiencies," I say.
I roll off him, stand, and extend a hand to pull him up. We stumble to the bed, and as I collapse on to it, and he onto me, his hand reaches for the bedside table. It returns with the lube and a condom--the human kind. I sit up against the pillows and put it on while he walks his knees on the mattress until he's straddling me.   I hold out my hand and he squeezes lube onto it, flicks the tube away onto the table. I slide a finger up into him. He sighs. Two fingers.   He sinks all the way down onto my hand, up again.
"I want your cock in me, John." The desire in his voice makes me throb. I force myself to hold still while he positions himself. With unbearable slowness he slides down onto me. "God, Garrus," I groan. I wrap my arms around him, pull our bodies close. His cock leaves a searing wet trail against my skin as we move, as I thrust into him and he thrusts against me. Time slows down for us as I moan into his neck and he moans into my hair, our bodies moving together until each of us cries out and the world comes rushing back.
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- 7
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The Competition