Calla wasn't happy.

It wasn't just a matter of not being happy. It was a matter of being heart stopping, cheek flushing, blood pressure rising pissed off. After all that had happened, all she'd been through, all the information she'd provided, the Council still refused to recognize the Reaper threat. And it was that damn turian councilor's fault. No matter what she said, he was there to interrupt her. It didn't matter that she had actual, physical proof that the Reapers existed. Oh, no. She was still, even years later, being influenced by Saren. No matter that the ex-Spectre was long dead, as was Sovereign. She was still under his spell. Yes. That had to be it.

No one said a word to the commander as she made her way through the ship. Her strides were stiff - tense. She didn't smile to Kelly, didn't wave to Gardner. Nothing. The impact of her boots on the metallic catwalk echoed through the long hallway leading towards the Main Battery, ringing in her ears no matter how loud her blood pulsed in them.

He'd told her once that if she needed him, he'd be there. To listen, to talk, or even just to sit in her company while she stewed. But this wasn't about that. Not at all. She didn't want to talk, didn't need to. She'd done enough talking for the day. Hell, if she didn't have to say another word to the Council, it'd be too soon. But she did need him in a way.

The door hissed open, revealing a very familiar sight. Garrus was standing in front of the console, his back to the door, no doubt so engrossed in his work that he hadn't heard her enter. A hand moved like a flash over the access pad, and her eyes strayed just long enough to see it flash red. Her boots were off in the heartbeat afterwards, landing with dual thumps on the ground. Still, he made no move. Either he didn't hear her or he was waiting for her to say something. No matter, her hands went to her blouse, not even so much as fumbling over the tiny buttons that ran the length of the garment. It was tossed aside, just as her slacks were not long after, leaving her in nothing save a military-issue sports bra and a pair of boxer shorts.

She moved up behind him, making no attempts at being silent or even stealthy as her hands slithered around his waist. When he still refrained from reacting, it was obvious he'd heard her. The fact that he knew it was her and not someone else made a grin tug at the corner of her mouth. "Not even so much as a hello?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, raspy almost.

"Hey," the turian replied casually, letting himself drift back just enough so he could feel her body pressed to his. He could tell the answer to the question before the words were even out of his mouth. She was tense. Extremely so. "How did the, uh… meeting go?"

Shepard pressed her forehead into his cool armor, shutting her eyes against the sensation. "They talk too much," she murmured, "but they don't say shit." Her fingers flayed along his stomach. They twitched in surprise when she felt a familiar weight resting above them, Garrus' three talons sliding between her five digits. "I don't get it. I saved their asses from Sovereign. You think they'd trust me. Or even just believe me."

"You have the salarian councilor on your side," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but he's the new guy. He's not even the one on the Destiny Ascension. The turian and asari don't put much clout in his decisions. Not that they'd openly discuss that in front of a human." Her tone became bitter as she spat out the word. She could see the turian councilor's smug face, hear his condescending tone. "It's not fair. I deserve more than this."

Garrus lifted her hand from his stomach and turned towards her. His mandibles flared as the sight of her standing before him in her underwear registered. Still, he jerked his eyes up to her face. She needed comfort now, right? He had to show empathy. Even if she was almost naked. And so close.

She clocked the look in his eye easy. He was fighting it, but she could still see it - that almost predatory gleam he got in his eye when he had someone's skull in the center of his sights. Or her. Was it lust? Did other species even feel lust the way humans did? She hardly knew. She didn't give herself time to figure it out, either.

A low growl of appreciation filled her ears when her hands fell to the seals of his armor. He wasn't about to interrupt her. He didn't even try to help her. When Shepard was like this, it was better just to take a figurative step back and let her handle her business. Garrus' breath caught in his throat as the chest piece was tossed away, her inquisitive hands smoothing through the grooves of the plates beneath his throat.

He leaned forward, mouth hovering close to hers, only to have her pull away at the last moment, her attention focused solely on removing every piece of armor she could. Now was not the time for a heartfelt nuzzle. Words didn't even have a place here. Instead, Garrus leaned back, eyes falling to her diligent work. She seemed more than a little annoyed as she ripped everything else away. Her breathing was labored, her lips parted with each inhalation, each quiet growl of her own. He could hardly make out the words that struggled out of her mouth. You. Need you. Now.

"Did you bring the oil Mordin gave you?" Garrus murmured, unsure if interrupting her at the moment would harm him personally.

Her eyes flashed to his, brows knitting above her nose. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it. Opening it again, she pushed him forward, clumsily fighting with the padding around his thigh. "Screw the oil." When the first leg was off, she straightened out and pushed herself flush against him, her face hovering mere inches in front of his. "You wanna go get it, or are you going to fuck me?"

"On second thought…"

Shepard gave a loud, humorless laugh as she felt herself pulled forward by the two strong hands around her waist. The sound was replaced by a moan at the feeling of Garrus' mouth on her neck, his tongue curling warm circles on her skin. She already felt like she was on fire. He wasn't helping.

He shifted before her when her frustrated whimper hit his ears. So she wasn't interested in warming up. That fact alone was enough to set his thighs burning. It was her anger that drove her here; her frustration. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. She didn't show any signs of slowing down, either, as she curled her arms around his neck and pulled him close. His hands sought out the fleshy swell of her ass, sliding beneath the military issue boxers to find that she'd prepared. Either that or she'd forgotten earlier that day.

"You're taking too long," Calla growled, her lips ghosting against his mandible. Her tongue teased it into submission, eagerly bypassing it to seek out the sharp points of his teeth. She had to be careful not to prick herself on them, but the danger was what drove her to do it, her hands sliding around to his back and crushing him against her. She could feel him between her thighs, almost as ready as she was.

Garrus could feel her leg climbing up his, gaining purchase between his calf muscle and the spur. He grunted in surprise at the sudden weight of her as she hoisted herself upwards. She was going to climb him like a ladder. Instead of just accepting this, he turned on his other heel, spinning them both around. Shepard hit the terminal with a surprised gasp, followed swiftly by a rumbling chuckle that only succeeded in pulling him closer.

He was gentle when she needed him to be gentle. He was rough when she needed him to be rough. Today was one of those times.

A harsh tearing sound filled the battery as he pulled the boxer shorts farther down her thighs. One of the legs completely ripped, sliding down the length of her leg to where her foot was still settled near the spur. She let go of him and sought out the tight pants he wore beneath the armor, anxious to free him of his confines. Her mindless grasping was intercepted easily, fumbling hands knocked to the side as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

She loved turian tongue.

Garrus ignored her as feeble protestations rolled from her lips. "Garrus -- no," she cried, though her actions spoke much louder than her words. Every mumbled no, risky, da-dangerous was followed by a low, appreciative moan. The way her thighs tensed around him, the way her hands grasped the console until her knuckles gleamed white, the way her heels dug into his back - her mouth said no, but her body said -- "Yes!" Shepard howled as he dove deeper. He could feel her entire body arch closer.

His attention was torn away from the foreign taste of her when she jerked backwards, her legs instinctively closing. "No," she gasped. She shook her head, hair falling into her eyes, sticking to the dampness of her neck. "That's not what I -- not what I want."

Garrus looked at her. None of that initial gentleness remained. She was met with nothing but cold, blue fire. The feeling of his mandibles flexing against the tender skin of her thighs made her shudder, but it was his voice that rolled a heat through her limbs. It was quiet; predatory. Little more than a growl.

"Then tell me what you want."

Her skin erupted in goosebumps at the sound, and she squirmed ineffectually on the console, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. When she didn't immediately reply, he stood, placing his hands on either side of her own on the terminal. He was so close. She could feel the warmth emanating from him, could feel each puff of breath on the skin of her cheek.

"You know what I want," came her murmured reply, punctuated by a thankful gasp as he pushed into her. Her hands left the terminal, arms snaking around his neck as she pulled herself as close to him as she could. With one arm holding both of them up and the other pressed against the small of her back, he rocked his hips forward, sending a wave of pleasure through her body.

Each thrust brought new, almost mind-numbing sensations to the both of them. Their relationship was only newly consummated, and he'd always been so gentle, so careful, even despite her pleas for something more. But this - this was another beast entirely. The sounds she made, the gasping, desperate sounds, were so different from the quieter, more languid ones he'd heard before. And the way her body rebelled against him, as if she was fighting him and welcoming him at the very same time, her internal muscles working against him in ways no turian woman could have ever dreamed.

He was frantic. She was desperate. He wanted to give her all he could. She was more than willing to take it. He growled out her name, his forehead pressed against her shoulder to keep from biting into it. She called out his, her fingers digging into the more delicate flesh beneath his collar ridge.

If she could have even opened her eyes as her climax tore through her, she would've seen stars. Her hips bucked against him, her heels dug almost painfully into his lower back. Somewhere, seemingly far off, she heard Garrus roar in release and felt him fill her. The sensation was more than she could handle. His momentum kept him going, each push grinding against her until she felt another pulse of searing heat explode near the base of her spine.

Her scream was forcibly muffled, and she could taste the metallic twang of blood in her mouth. He finally released her, his body half-leaning against the terminal. Their hearts raced in symphony, their lungs burning, their eyes poorly focused but staring into the others'. Neither of them could find what they wanted to say.

Instead of speaking, Garrus leaned his head down against her breast. She could feel each labored breath, each heavy sigh. All of that tension she'd earlier felt was gone, melted away as if it had never existed. She could feel her muscles responding in kind, softening beneath her flushed skin, returning to how they should be.

"Samara said I should take up meditation to get rid of my tension," Calla murmured finally. Garrus looked up at her, mandibles flexing in curiosity. She laughed, a merrier sound than the one she'd uttered earlier, leaning back against the console. "I really don't think that's necessary."