Follow Miranda.

Boarding the earthbound shuttle, Miranda nestled down in her seat. Without FTL travel, it would take several hours to arrive in London. It would be a better opportunity for some sleep than might present itself for some time.

-

"Let me see it, let me see it!" Shepard pleaded, that stupid dashing smirk plastered on his face. Miranda kept the lab coat held tightly shut for the mean time.

"Just to be perfectly clear, if you had suggested this on any other day, I would've had your arse thrown out the airlock!" Miranda warned him.

"Of course, of course, now off with the coat." John practically begged.

Deciding to get it over with as quickly as possible, Miranda dropped the white coat.

Miranda was dressed as a cheerleader, in the familiar white and gold colors of Cerberus. A white and gold top contained her tits, terminating just below her breasts, and held precariously in place with spaghetti straps.

A white miniskirt with gold accents left precious little to Shepard's imagination.

She also wore white thigh-high socks, with gold legwarmers.

Going all out, Miranda had even done her hair up in pigtails, using a pair of gold scrunchies.

Put simply, Miranda was dressed as every inch the "Cerberus cheerleader" those who disliked her had her pegged as.

The birthday boy seemed to approve.

"Maybe I should snap a quick pic, see what Jack thinks." Shepard joked.

"Airlock, remember?" Miranda said.

"Being threatened by a cheerleader? I could get used to this." Shepard laughed.

"I'm serious." Miranda re-iterated.

"What do I have to be scared of? You forgot your pom-poms." Shepard riposted. Miranda couldn't help but crack a smile at that one.

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve." Miranda said, despite her lack of sleeves, or much clothing whatsoever.

"Such as?" Shepard raised an eyebrow.

"Top of my class in baton twirling." Miranda winked, playfully grabbing at the sizeable bulge in Shepard's pants.

"I wouldn't mind a display. Twirl away!" Shepard said eagerly.

Finding her knees in front of the couch, the cheerleader deftly freed her lover's cock from it's confines. The old adage about practice making perfect seemed to be holding true in their case.

"And they say I'm genetically perfect." Miranda cooed, marvelling once again at the size of Shepard's package.

"Careful, talk like that'll go to my head." Shepard said, appreciating the touch of the Cerberus operative.

"Believe me, the damage is done." Miranda said. Of course, after coming back from the dead and saving humanity twice, a little of the arrogance Shepard displayed was warranted.

Shepard gripped her shoulders as if to steady himself as Miranda went down on him. All the asari strippers, even the Citadel consort herself, and none of them felt as good as her.

The more time he spent with her, the more time Shepard began to suspect it had less to do with her genetic modifications, and more about the blossoming love he felt for her.

Of course, the fact she could take his full length without so much as a gag also boosted his appreciation of her.

Something the cheerleader had managed right now. With his cock bulging in her throat, Miranda stared up at Shepard, her blue eyes as cold and beautiful as ever.

Shepard reached out to stroke her hair. As Miranda slid her mouth back up his shaft, he seized his XO's pigtails and **** her lips back down his cock.

"One more thing I like about your new look." Shepard added. "Some nice, convenient blowjob handles."

Shepard mercilessly exploited his newfound leverage, bringing Miranda's willing mouth up and down his prick.

"Damn." Shepard thought to himself. "Maybe I ought to update the female uniform regulations."

Part of Miranda wanted to wave her arm up and give her cheeky Commander a quick biotic slap. The other part... Well, it loved to surrender control to him, to worship his body...

He had always been a flirt. Sometimes, when he was sure Miranda was watching, he would remorselessly chat up Yeoman Chambers.

About a week ago, Miranda had watched on from one of Cerberus' many spycams, as he had the younger, green-eyed redhead stand in front of him and help him check his messages. While Kelly was archiving mail, Shepard was grinding his erection into her ass. Judging by her reaction, the Yeoman hadn't minded at all.

After a few more minutes of working Shepard's dick, he decided he wanted to move on. Obligingly, Miranda stood up.

Deciding to tease the Commander, Operative Lawson placed one of her thighs over his legs, planting her foot into the couch next to him.

Her fingers brushing the hem of her miniskirt, Miranda flicked it up, giving Shepard the briefest of confirmations she wasn't wearing panties.

There was no denying the hunger on John's face after his glimpse of Miranda's pussy. She was impressed with his fortitude. A lesser man would no doubt be drooling.

"Let's not waste any time." Shepard decided. Despite the obvious evidence of his arousal, it still sounded more like a command than a plea.

"Straight to the point, then." Miranda agreed. Her blowjob had primed him, but now John was ready to fuck.

Straddling her man, the Cerberus cheerleader got to work, bouncing on his lap. Shepard's cock went up inside her skirt, and made contact with her cunt. It just felt so perfect to have him inside her, like he was custom-built to match her.

Miranda thrilled as she felt Shepard's strong hands worm their way around her hips and tightly grip her arse.

Shepard had the strength and stamina of a krogan, and the sexual skill of an asari. He seemed to never tire, never relent, until he had satisfied her.

Before too long, he had done just that. Miranda cried out as she came, pushed over the edge by Shepard's unceasing pace.

Shepard took her primal roar as a declaration of war. He continued on, fucking the cheerleader without pause. He reached up, pushing up her top to worship her jiggling breasts.

Eventually, Miranda's perfected body proved too much for even Shepard to handle. With his face buried in her tits, pulled into a close embrace, Shepard came, shooting spurt after spurt of his virile seed into Miranda.

The only thing that kept the scenario from being perfect was the lack of impregnation. Of the potent cum of the savior of humanity creating life within Miranda.

Forcing her disappointed from her mind, Miranda slumped off Shepard and onto the couch, panting happily with him. Of course, due to their peak physical fitness, within five or ten minutes they'd be at it again, tearing each other's clothes off in the process...

-

An arrival notice woke Miranda. Sitting up, the Alliance agent stretched and, a touch flustered, reflected on her dream. She would have to redouble her efforts to bring Shepard home.

After all, his birthday was coming up, and Miranda still had one item of clothing with her from her Cerberus days...