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The Justicar's Dog of War	By : Doirly_No Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 55026 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Gravity cut and the void opened before her. Fully suited, Shepard crotched on what normally would be the ceiling of the armory; her suit keeping her anchored in the weightless environment. Attached to her back was a large, industrial tool similar to the heavy weapons she utilized during her time with Cerberus. The added piece of equipment meant she had to surrender much of her arsenal. Three grenades, a pistols and a shotgun would be all she could bring on the assault.
She watched an idle, hulking freighter drift into view. The owners of the vessel, who at the moment were a system away, requested it be returned to them unharmed, but understood if that would be impossible. They apparently had some very good insurance and rather the ship be destroyed than allow a band of pirates use it against innocent people. That attitude was part of the reason Samara decided to assist, besides the fact this particular gang was only a decent ship away from getting a red sand cartel up and running.
When the red light by the portal turned green Shepard pushed off and engaged her suit’s meager propulsion. Into open space she went, able to ignore the bad memories that wanted to overwhelm her. The boarding required her to bridge the mile between the ships alone. The pair of vigilantes had been drifting through the area with all but a few key systems shutdown waiting for their target to arrive in orbit of the criminals’ headquarters. With as little thruster use as possible Samara had been able to keep the black of the hull pointed at the enemy making visual detection near impossible as they lay their ambush.
Shepard’s trip through the nothingness went as planned, two thirds of the way her suit warned her that the propellant was half gone. If something went wrong she wouldn’t be escaping by the same means, but at least she had some to waste to get properly lined up. At the other end of the journey her boots took hold of the hull without issue. A quick check of her omni-tool told her she needed to take a little walk in order to get to the spot where she could cut a hole in the plating and enter the ship without notice.
The heavy-duty tool came off her back and she made a thorough scan to make sure she’d reached the maintenance crawl space they decided on. The owners had provided a detailed schematic showing her the precise spot where a hole could be cut without decompressing anything. Once an emergency field kicked in it would be a simple task to transition into the ship proper. The chance anyone would notice before the shooting began was minimal.
The white hot spark jumped out from the industrial cutter; the alloy plating vaporizing under the intense heat. Turning the corner on the square hole she’d make Shepard saw a thin stream of gas wheeze out. Immediately she stopped her work to recheck her positioning. Her eyes on the floating screen she didn’t notice the venting expand along the fissure she had just opened. As she confirmed she hadn’t made a mistake the duct she was attempting to enter exploded, throwing the infiltrator into the vacuum and shrapnel into her suit.
With the sudden decompression of one of the smuggling spaces the pirates had just finished creating an active sensor ping lit up everything in the area, including the drifting spy vessel off their port side. Their upgraded weapon systems powered up faster than all those the other ship would need for defense. A salvo of cannon blasts launched as soon as the targeting had locked on. The unsurpassed engineering of the salarians was all that kept the small vessel from destruction.
Samara engaged thrusters to dodge the second volley and returned fire with both torpedo tubes. The military ordinance obliterated the civilian shields, crippling the engines along with a cannon battery. It didn’t prevent a separate turret from counter attacking, knocking out her FTL drive in turn. A dog fight didn’t require it though. She engaged a short, full-thruster burn to get into the blind spot she had just opened in the defenses. Pointing the nose and therefore the weapons at the freighter she emptied the ammo magazine as rapidly as possible. The half dozen torpedoes shredded the makeshift pirate ship. Whatever plan for an orbital strike against the gang’s base went by the weigh side.
As the cargo ship became a cloud of wreckage, Samara turned every sensor at her disposal to active and released a flurry of pings. The shreds of hull and bulkhead filling the area confused the readings. She turned to the computer to calculate the trajectory Shepard would have been sent on to narrow the search. She rung out what was left of the failing thrusters to follow the projected path the woman should be on. Having been thrown free before the actual destruction of the freighter, the infiltrator would have to be in front of the blast wave.
Still, a person in a hard suit was a small, cold object in the void of space. The odds of a rescue were long, but then again nearly everything the woman had done on the road to being the savoir of the galaxy was. Samara kept her emotions in check as the computer’s calculations guided her search; even as she listened to the crackle of static that should be Shepard’s voice. The question of whether Cerberus’s Lazarus Project could be repeated entered the matriarch’s mind.
Something then popped on the screen. It was instantaneous and faint, but most assuredly there. Samara focused her sensors on the spot in time to see a second flash. Her eyes then lifted to the window to witness a series of fireballs streaking out in all directions from a single point. As the asari set in the coordinates of what she hoped was her lost pet she realized she had only ever seen the woman use the outdated HMWSG to unleash high-impact, carnage shots. Any lock Shepard couldn’t overcome with a bypass got a full-powered shotgun blast.
With no doubt as to the location of the drifting human, Samara left the final approach to the navigation computer and hightailed it to the still zero-gravity, lower deck. Always outfitted in her armor during a mission, no matter her role, it took only a moment to put on the helmet and attach a tether. Just as Shepard had done minutes ago, she braced against the ceiling to get a straight push off. By the time she was set and the external lights illuminated the infiltrator the makeshift, distress signals had ceased.
Shepard held on as tight as she could, but after the sixth carnage shot her hands’ lost the last of their strength and the weapon flew off into space. Witnessing the enemy ship explode she had the wherewithal to make herself as conspicuous as possible, but setting off her grenades and the half dozen blasts was all her failing consciousness could muster. The concussion overpowered her will as lacerations and decompression overtook her pain threshold. She was entirely out of it by the time her savior’s arms wrapped around her.
It took sixteen hours of computer-driven first aid before Shepard groggily mumbled, “I better not have died again…”
Her lids dragged open, a few blinks required to clear the recovering woman’s vision. No lab equipment or Australians in sight. She tried to lift her head but the sting that lashed her neck made her think better of it. Besides the pillow and mattress she lay on were far too comfortable to argue with. Only the smallest amount of thought told her that she shouldn’t be alone and her eyes began to wander from the ceiling to the living room. With not a bit of movement anywhere her focus waned and her eyes fluttered.
From out of the ether Samara’s gorgeous, calming features appeared to ask, “How are you feeling?”
Shepard jerked as it seemed like the asari had appeared while she blinked. “Sore from the hair down.”
“Would you like me to help you feel better?” a suggestive grin on purple lips.
“If that is your desire, ma…”
Samara interrupted, “None of that right now. I wish only care for the one I hold most dear.”
Shepard’s eyes trailed as her cheeks blushed. “If you insist.”
“I do,” the matriarch said just before she pressed her lips to the human’s.
Not yet fully ready, Samara got up from the mattress to retrieve a few necessities, her fingers lingering to flip the sheet off Shepard’s nude form. The injured woman couldn’t help but intently watch the asari gracefully sway her butt across the room to a small pile of prepared items. Though she had to admit to be disappointed by the chosen attire; none of the elegant clothing she purchased for the blue body worthy of worship, but rather a boring set of borrowed black, cotton shorts and tank-top. Although, the matriarch’s fuller bust and hips certainly filled them out a lot better than she ever had.
When Samara turned back she immediately noted her wounded pet’s gaze lay on the fabric stretched over her heavy chest. She allowed the stare for a few steps before her eyes glowed white and her biotics flared. Waves of energy lifted the human from the bed, holding her head pointed to the ceiling. Casual as could be the asari closed the remaining distance, taking a second to run her hand along the near thigh testing its firmness before spreading a large towel out underneath the floating body. Not that she needed to, but she took hold of the near hip to flip Shepard over as she was lowered to the bed.
Naturally, Shepard’s arms crossed under her head to form a cradle. The pain in her neck wouldn’t allow her to look to see what the asari was up to, not that it was hard to guess. A weight settled between her ankles as a quiet melody began to cascade from the speakers all around. The first squirt of oil against the back of her knee confirmed Samara’s obvious intent. Many of her mental faculties melted away when strong fingers began to rub translucent liquid into her skin.
As the palms smoothed the sheen up her muscle bound thigh Shepard observed, “This seems backwards. I should be doing this to you.”
“You will at some point, but right now you require some extra care.” Samara massaged the lotion a bit deeper before adding, “And I have always been one to take good care of my things.”
“Well then I’m very happy to be one of your things.”
The matriarch’s cheeks widened with a smile as she shifted attention to the other leg. Samara massaged oil laced with a tiny amount of painkillers and some healing compounds into aching muscles. Honestly though, groping the woman was far being selfless; over half the galaxy would switch places with her in a heartbeat and she’d be hard pressed to find a single member of her own kind who’d pass the offer up. Plus, there was a certain amount of joy to be found in grooming, bathing and caring for one’s pet.
Once she had spread a fine film over every inch of the human’s legs not pressed to the towel, Samara moved her focus a tad higher, to a body part she had growing affection for. She took hold of either cheek with a wide grasp and couldn’t help jiggling the supple meat. A chuckle radiated from behind the tangle of unkempt hair. The light laugh turned to a shocked yelp when a sizable drop of oil landed in the crevasse of her ass. The asari then scooped up the shiny glob to spread out and over the buttocks in mirrored, spiraled paths.
Shepard’s owner took far more time than needed to massage her firm pair of cheeks. A wandering thumb occasionally slipped into her puckered hole, the abundant lubrication easily overcoming any resistance. Each penetration garnered only a minor wiggle as she grew more accustomed to the sensation and starting to find some of the joy it could bring. Not that she was to the point that she’d ask for it nor was she going to complain when the digits moved on to the small of her back. The hands pressed down on her for only a moment as the asari readjusted to gain a better vantage on the lying woman and began to mount her hips.
“Ma’a…” A sharp swat to the butt reminded Shepard of her superior’s wishes. “I just wanted to ask a small favor.”
“Oh?” Samara paused, hovering over the glistening backside. “What is it?”
“It’s just that I would prefer my clothes not get all greasy,” a mischievous eye peeking from behind a shoulder.
The matriarch cocked her head and brow. “What makes you think your clothing will become greasy?”
“Well, I assume you’ll be using my currently well-oiled ass as a cushion and that could lead to a stain on the shorts you borrowed.”
Samara didn’t answer rather she shook her head a couple times as she dismounted to shed the worried about bottoms and then quickly reassumed her position. Her weight lowered, grinding her azure into the slippery posterior awhile before deciding to settle her weight on the upper thighs. Returning to the task at hand, she poured more healing lubrication onto the expanse of Shepard’s back. The massage really began in earnest as her experienced fingers rubbed each sore muscle in turn. She took painstaking care to stretch an even film from shoulder to shoulder and scalp to pelvis. Once satisfied with the coating she flattened her palms along the bulges of hardened flesh. Her eyes glowed as her biotics flared and needle like jolts of energy pierced varying nerve clusters.
Unable to form a coherent word, Shepard simply released a long moan. The therapeutic treatment actually doing a better job to relieve the aches in her muscles than the spiked oil. Perhaps she should get wounded more often. Everything that hurt drifted off into the ether. When nothing could get better and her whole body went limp the hands that had given so much grabbed her sides to flip her over. In her haze, the woman needed a few extra seconds to take the hint and let her body be repositioned.
Once fully settled on her back, Shepard’s mind cleared enough for her to confess, “I love you.”
Samara paused, maintaining an even expression. “Oh, is that so?”
“Absolutely,” the woman answered dreamily, her hands drifting to blue thighs.
“Why say that now?” she asked, seemingly unaffected.
Anxiety suddenly tightened the lying woman’s chest as the admission wasn’t received as hoped. “I don’t know, just realized I hadn’t really said it before and…”
“And?” Samara goaded after too many silent seconds passed.
“And I wanted to make sure you knew is all…” Shepard’s confidence wandered off again.
“I already knew, though I am overjoyed to hear the actual words.” The matriarch fell onto her pet’s body, bringing their lips to a breath apart. “And I am obviously in love with you as well.”
Their confessions complete, their kiss began. Both delving deep into the others mouth as passion overflowed. Shepard’s arms wrapped up the asari as tightly as possible, stains no longer a concern. Not wanting to pass up the opportunity, one of her hands drifted lower to take a healthy hold of a luscious, blue buttock. Her other fingers slid up to take a gentle hold of the ridges of the matriarch’s crest. After indulging many minutes Samara pulled away, needing a solid grip on the human’s hair to dissuade her from following.
“You know, I have yet to give you your reward from the previous mission,” the sentence immediately gathering all Shepard’s attention. “And considering your injury and confession, I believe you have earned a significant bonus.”
“Thank you, m…”
A brief kiss, followed by a smile cut the woman off yet again. “Hush now my pet.”
Samara pulled away, grabbing the bottle of oil before her back had fully straightened. Immediately hands groped whatever scaled skin within reach. Fingers skimmed up her thighs all the way to her hip joints, then took paths along the outsides on the way back to the knee. To show her approval she ground her pelvis into the human’s a little, putting a touch of friction between their sexes. That proved too encouraging though, as the woman’s touch grew too greedy.
Just as nails brushed the inside of Samara’s borrowed top, she reminded, “I thought you did not wish your clothing soiled.”
“Yeah, I guess you should take my shirt off too then,” Shepard suggested, drumming her fingers along a taut tummy.
“But my hands are already covered with massage oil.” With the word the asari pour an abundant amount onto her human’s navel.
After the shiver finished its race through her body, the injured woman continued being helpful, “I’ll do it then.”
“Oh, but your hands are slick as well.” Samara then laced their fingers together. “Now stop your avarice or I will revoke your groping privileges.”
Having put the pet in her place, Samara dipped her hands into the translucent pool covering defined abs. She pushed the oil away to spread a thick layer up to the bottom swell of the bust then pulled the excess down to the mons pubis. A thumb tip went low enough to slip into the junction of where their bodies met; teasing through both their outer lips. Only a tease though, for her ministrations quickly returned to the flat stomach and rubbing aching muscles.
Shepard went entirely limp except for her hands so she could squeeze the thighs she loved to get lost between. A long moan escaped once the healing touch finally reached higher than her belly. Her eyes drifted close as the extremely experienced fingers wrapped around her breast. Though not as plentiful as the millennia-old matriarch’s, they still filled a palm nicely. Not much extra attention went to the stiffened tips; rather the whole of each mound was lovingly squeezed, kneaded and massaged. Her relaxation eventually reached the point that even her arms flopped to the side.
For many wondrous minutes the former commander laid there letting skilled hands roam across the front of her body. The revelry came to a sudden end when she felt a nip on one of her erect nipple. Her lids flew open and down to see the asari’s mouth enclose a sensitive tip. There was no eye contact as her owner was only interested in testing the little nub with teeth, tongue and lips. Pinching fingers took over when the oral attention shifted to the other side. Almost immediately suction was applied and the ancient alien began to suckle as if she expected milk to come out.
Once she was satisfied, the matriarch left the teased nipples and began to slide down the muscular, human form. Her nose gathering some leftover oil as it dragged across quivering flesh. As Shepard had realized she hadn’t confessed her feelings; Samara realized she had yet to properly taste her pet. Sucking juices from her fingers wasn’t quite the same as drinking straight from the source. Her tongue touched the cleft of…
A fist slammed the control panel, cutting off the stolen sensor recordings. Liara collapsed back into her chair, jaw knitted tight. Before sending the spyware she had thought the worst cause scenario would involve Shepard being held captive over some infraction of the zealot Justicar’s code, but the vid changed that. Without the visual of the matriarch literally sitting on the glistening, nude woman she’d have been frustrated and regretful; wishing she had tried harder to get her commander’s attention. With the visual however, a jealous rage built in the pit of her stomach.
“Dr. T’Soni you shouldn’t be so rough with the equipment…”
“Not now Glyph!” Whatever questions she had over the manner in which the lovers spoke to each other disappeared as her more obsessive compulsions took over. “I need to know where Shepard’s ship is!”
“It is currently being towed to Illium for…”
“Set course.”
- 8
- 9
- 10
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The Justicar's Dog of War