Garrus

Shepard’s body was on fire. The heat coiled low in her belly, pulsing with every step she took down the Normandy’s corridor. Her skin felt too tight, her breaths shallow and uneven. The encounter with Kaidan had left her raw, exposed, and now this—this craving—was consuming her. She couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t ignore it. It was maddening.

She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to move. Her feet carried her forward, the ship’s soft hum a distant echo in her ears. Her mind was a storm of half-formed thoughts and urges, but one thing was clear: she couldn’t face this alone.

And then she saw him.

Garrus.

He stood at the end of the corridor, his back to her, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light. He was adjusting something on his omni-tool, his movements precise, deliberate. Shepard’s breath hitched. She hadn’t realized how much she needed him—needed this—until she saw him standing there.

“Garrus,” she called out, her voice trembling. It was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make him turn.

His sharp, angular face softened when he saw her. “Shepard? You okay? You look—” He cut himself off, his mandibles flexing as he stepped closer. “You don’t look okay.”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her body was betraying her again, that same restless energy surging through her veins. She closed the distance between them, her legs unsteady beneath her, and before she could second-guess herself, she was grabbing the front of his armor, pulling him down to her level.

“Shepard?” His voice was low, wary, but there was no resistance as she pressed her body against his. “What’s going on?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, ****. “I need you.”

Garrus froze. For a moment, she thought he might pull away, might question her, might make her explain. But then his hands were on her waist, his talons curling into her skin through the fabric of her uniform. “Shepard…”

She didn’t give him time to think. She rose on her toes, her lips brushing against the edge of his mouthplate. “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t… I can’t think straight. I need you. Now.”

His chest rumbled with a low growl, and suddenly, she was being pushed back. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and Garrus was there, his body pinning her in place. His hands moved to her hips, his grip firm, and she let out a shaky breath as he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded, her fingers clutching at the collar of his armor. “Yes. God, yes.”

That was all he needed. His hands were on her in an instant, pulling at the clasps and zippers of her uniform. Shepard didn’t bother helping him; her focus was entirely on the way his hands felt on her skin, the way his breath hitched as he uncovered more of her. When her uniform finally fell away, pooling at her feet, she was left in nothing but her underwear.

Garrus’s gaze raked over her, his mandibles flaring wide. “Fuck, Shepard…” His voice was a low growl, and she felt it deep in her chest.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the edge of his armor. “Take it off,” she demanded, her voice trembling with need. “I want to feel you.”

He didn’t hesitate. His hands moved with practiced ease, undoing the clasps and seals of his armor until it, too, fell away. He was bare beneath, his scarred, blue-gray skin on full display. Shepard’s breath caught at the sight of him, at the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he moved.

She reached out, her fingers brushing over his chest, and felt a shiver run through him. “Garrus…” Her voice was a soft plea, and he answered it without hesitation.

His hands were on her hips again, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her core pressed against the hard line of his arousal. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that sent a thrill through her.

“Garrus,” she gasped as he carried her to the wall, pinning her there. His hands moved to her thighs, holding her steady, and she could feel the heat of him against her, the promise of what was to come.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the edge of his mouthplate again. “Please.”

He growled, and then he was moving, his hips pressing against hers in a slow, deliberate grind. Shepard’s head fell back against the wall, a moan escaping her lips as she felt the friction, the pressure building inside her.

“Garrus…” Her voice was a breathless whisper, and he answered it with a growl, his hands tightening on her thighs.

He shifted slightly, and then she felt him—hard, insistent—pressing against her entrance. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed into her, inch by agonizing inch.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her head falling forward to rest against his chest. He was everywhere, his scent, his warmth, the feel of him inside her. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

He paused when he was fully sheathed within her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Shepard… are you—”

She cut him off with a **** kiss, her lips pressing against the edge of his mouthplate. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He growled again, and then he was moving, his hips snapping against hers in a rhythm that left her breathless. She clung to him, her nails scraping against his skin as she moaned with every thrust.

It was raw, primal, and utterly consuming. She could feel every inch of him, every shift of his hips, every groan that rumbled through his chest. It was too much, and not enough, and she needed more.

“Garrus,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she felt the pressure building inside her. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

His growl was her answer, his thrusts growing harder, faster. She felt herself tightening around him, her body coiling with the promise of release. And then it hit her, a wave of pleasure so intense it left her trembling in its wake.

She cried out, her nails digging deeper into his skin as the sensation washed over her. Garrus followed her over the edge, his growl echoing in the quiet corridor as he spilled himself inside her.

For a moment, they stayed like that, locked together, their breaths mingling in the air. Shepard’s legs were still wrapped around his waist, her body trembling with the aftershocks of what had just happened.

When Garrus finally pulled back, his movements slow, careful, she felt a pang of loss. He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her hips as if he was afraid she might collapse without his support.

“Shepard…” His voice was low, hesitant, and she could see the question in his eyes.