A/N: This story started out as a oneshot. This was originally going to be the only chapter, but I got caught up in it and it's turned into an entire story that revolves pretty exclusively around the bedroom scenes that happen between these two characters. There will certainly be some game event-related action and a small amount of mushy tension but it is for the most part a feel-good story intended to fulfill the emptiness left by the ending of ME3 (because when BioWare gives you lemons... well, I think we know what we like to do with lemons here...). Just be warned, while the first chapter is just a little erotic, later chapters get a bit more graphic in the sex department. I gradually delve much more into MA territory, but it's still pretty tame in my personal opinion... I try hard to keep it hot and romantic and not unnecessarily crude or graphic.
I am also going to work in some non-canon details that will allow me to work up to an alternate ending.
Also, if anyone is interested, I've linked a Grooveshark playlist in my profile of particularly - um - inspirational music that I listened to while writing this whole story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
James had been mulling over Shepard's casual comment about making good on his flirting all afternoon. He didn't really think she was serious, but damn, what a way to make a guy rethink his position.
They'd been flirting back and forth for weeks and she'd never hinted that she was actually interested in something more, so he'd just brushed it off. Especially after learning that her old flame was joining them on the Normandy. The second human Spectre, Kaidan Alenko. And boy did he have a hard act to follow. Vega didn't envy the guy. Well, maybe he envied him a little... but not the Spectre part. He wondered what kindof cojones the man must have to be able to get the infamous Commander Shepard into bed.
He winced as the tattoo needle dug into his skin a little harder. "Ow, careful!"
"We can take a break if you want," the tattooist said, sounding impatient.
"Nah... get it done."
"You asked for it to be big... it's still gonna take awhile, and I have to go deeper with the red ink for it to be vibrant."
"Get it done," James reiterated, wishing he'd taken the time to look up an old friend in the Lower Wards instead of the Batarian scumbag who was currently inking his skin.
The needles buzzed as the tattooist dug into his skin again. He wondered idly if Shepard had any ink. His mind drifted to an imaginary scenario in which she pulled him into Normandy's elevator and clandestinely displayed her own artwork to him after tracing soft fingertips over the blackwork that covered the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. A small part of his mind rejected the fantasy, telling him that she'd never behave that way, but he still went with it.
In his mind, she turned her back to him and pulled up her shirt a few inches, then shoved the waistband of her pants down a few inches, just enough to display... whatever it was. It never mattered to him what her artwork looked like because in his fantasy he never actually looked at it. He got too distracted by the tantalizing view of the top of her ass crack and the tee of a black lace thong that peeked out from her pants. In his fantasy he always hit the "Stop" button on the elevator just before he sidled up behind her and pushed her pants down past her hips and the round swell of her ass.
In his fantasy, she would stand there looking over her shoulder and daring him to go further. So he would unzip his fly, spread her cheeks wide with his large hands, and plunge his hard length into her. She'd be hot and wet and ready, and he'd have his way with her right there in between decks of the Normandy. She was a screamer in his fantasy and he always got hard just thinking about it.
In his fantasies he was never a subtle guy, but the truth was that was never something he would actually do. Especially not with a woman who could make him blush the way she did. No. If they ever actually got together... and that was a big "if"... he was pretty sure she would have the upper hand the entire time. And, truth be told, that idea turned him on more than anything. Fuck yeah, he wanted to be manhandled by her. Who wouldn't? Especially after she'd laid him out that day when he'd challenged her to a sparring match in the shuttle bay. He probably needed his head examined if he got turned on over getting beat up by a woman, though.
But Shepard wasn't just any woman. She was the first human Spectre, a member of that elite group of black ops soldiers that answered only to the Citadel council. She 'd defeated the Reaper, Sovereign, and saved the lives of said council. She'd destroyed the Collector base on a suicide mission that somehow she'd brought her entire crew back from alive. She'd defeated countless other foes that would have left the average soldier quaking in his boots - even the average N7 soldier. He wondered briefly how many thresher maws she'd gone toe to toe with... or toe to tail, he supposed. And she'd come back from the fucking dead to do half of that.
"So you know Commander Shepard?" he heard the tattooist say in an attempt to make idle conversation.
"Not really," he admitted.
"You two seemed pretty chummy when she was here earlier," said the Batarian with a needle to his back.
"She's my commanding officer. We're not 'chummy'," he insisted.
"Uh huh," the tattooist said, clearly unconvinced.
"Ow!" Vega said.
"So, let's see it," Shepard said to his back as she walked into the shuttle bay. She gave a nod to Steve Cortez as she passed by the requisitions terminal and stopped by James' station. His countertop was strewn as usual with bits and pieces of the weapons he was in the process of modding. She recognized pieces of the M-300 Claymore scattered about, which she knew was his baby. He must be upgrading it, she thought. She leaned casually against the heavy canvas punching bag that hung nearby.
He was wearing a threadbare white t-shirt that hugged his large muscles like a second skin. She could see small spots of ink and blood seeping through on the back of his shoulder in the rough outline of the N7 insignia.
"Hey, Lola," he said, fiddling delicately with a small screwdriver against the stock of the gun before turning to face her.
Her eyes trailed over his shoulders and down his pecs, the dark outlines of his tattoos clearly visible beneath the too-thin fabric of his shirt. In a flirty tone, she said, "I don't think that shirt is to regs, soldier. Do I need to kick your ass again?"
He blushed. Damn, how did she manage to do that? He coughed softly into a fist and looked at her, shrugging. "I didn't want to get blood and ink on my good shirt, but if you insist..."
He pulled the shirt off over his head, his muscles flexing and rippling. Shepard gazed at him appreciatively, her eyes raking over him. He took two steps towards her, watching her watch him. He thought he saw her gaze linger thoughtfully just below his belt for a second. Maybe he'd imagined it, but maybe she was interested in more than just flirting with him.
"You seem distracted, Lola," he said to her in a low, teasing voice. "Anything you want to share?"
She cleared her throat and forced her eyes back up to meet his. She had been distracted. The t-shirts he usually wore left little to the imagination, but she hadn't been prepared for her reaction when he actually took it off. She hadn't gotten quite so nice a view of him earlier in the day when she'd seen him under the needle.
Get a grip, he's your subordinate, she reprimanded herself. Like that really mattered in the grand scheme of things anymore. And as a Spectre she had the option to disregard Alliance chain of command anyway. Rank certainly hadn't mattered to her with Kaidan at the beginning. She had been considering rekindling things with her former lover, but had reservations. Things would be… complicated... with Kaidan and she really didn't need complicated right now with the Reaper invasion to deal with.
She crossed her arms under her breasts and smiled coyly at the heavily muscled, half-dressed soldier who stood before her. "Are you going to show me, James, or are you just going to stand there staring at my tits?"
"Okay, okay." A smile quirked at the side of his mouth and he actually did look at her breasts just before turning around.
He heard her make a little hum of approval and felt a soft touch trail over his shoulderblade along the edge of the new ink. He felt the prickle of gooseflesh rising up on him in the cool air of the shuttle bay, but it wasn't only his skin that reacted to her. He took a deep breath, willing away the tightness in his groin before he would have to turn and face her again.
"You added color," she said with a slight air of interest, and he felt her fingertips trace the skin around the red triangle that flanked the heavy black lettering of the N7 insignia that was freshly tattooed on his muscular shoulder.
"Yeah, I just couldn't imagine it without the red for some reason." He shrugged lightly and felt her hand drift down his spine before falling away when it reached his belt. He shivered.
He turned to look at her with a grin and said, "So, Commander... I showed you mine. Now it's your turn."
She raised an eyebrow at the suggestive tone of his request and laughed a low, throaty laugh. "I hate to disappoint you, James, but I don't actually have any tattoos.
The dejected look he gave her made her feel like she had just kicked his puppy.
"Not even a little one?" he asked. "Like maybe on your low back... just above your..." his voice trailed off as his hands made a subtle gripping motion, which he realized at the last moment might be a little inappropriate. He dropped his hands abruptly to his sides.
She gave him an amused smile. Clearly this was an idea he'd been invested in. She shrugged.
"Sorry... besides, even if I'd had one, it would be gone now. I don't even have any of the scars I had before Cerberus got ahold of my body two years ago. They completely reconstructed my skin, head to toe, when they resurrected me."
"You're shitting me," he said, clearly impressed. "I had no idea it was that extensive... I mean, I knew they brought you back from the dead but that's just... huh. Was everything reconstructed? Is there anything left that's real?"
She saw where he was going with that question as his eyes drifted back to her breasts. She laughed. "I do still have a few stock parts, Lieutenant, and they still work just fine."
At least they'd worked the last time she'd used them, but it had been awhile. Looking at James she felt the old urge swell in her to test things out again. Just to make sure everything was still in working order of course. As Garrus often said - sometimes a bit suggestively when within her earshot - it was never good to let the equipment sit unused for too long, you didn't want it to rust, after all.
It had been awhile. She recalled a certain former Alliance soldier-cum-Cerberus operative sharing her bed months earlier before their suicide mission to the Collector base, but they'd both gone their separate ways since. She wondered idly where Jacob Taylor had ended up after she'd made the announcement to the crew that she intended to turn herself and the Normandy in to the Alliance and offered everyone an out on Omega, knowing that if they didn't book it then, they'd all be taken into custody the second she reached Earth. She had been surprised when a few had actually offered to stay. "You need someone to fly this thing, Shepard," Joker had said, but she'd secretly suspected he really just didn't want to leave the Normandy.
So, yeah... it had been awhile. And she had to admit, part of her reluctance to get back together with Kaidan was because the last time she'd been with him had been before she'd even died, and she feared things would feel wrong to him. She still cared about him, but knew it would be less of an emotional landmine if she just avoided intimacy with him altogether. She had a strong feeling he felt the same way, which was some consolation.
"Well, they did a fantastic job putting you back together," James said, his deep voice drawing her back from her reverie. She drew in a deep breath and silently cursed herself. Had she actually been thinking about old lovers with that hunk of muscle half naked in front of her? Was she losing her fucking mind?
She barely noticed as his gaze drifted over her body with frank appreciation, then moved back to her eyes. She was busy with her own distractions as she eyed his naked torso, her gaze flicking over his tattoos, down his stomach, past his six-pack abs. She licked her lips and the tip of her pink tongue drifted across her lower lip, leaving a sheen of glistening wetness behind.
James cleared his throat and grabbed his shirt off the table, holding it strategically in front of his zipper. "Um... Can I put my shirt back on now, Commander? Or are you just going to stand there staring at my pecs?"
"Touché," she said with a laugh and turned to go. He stood watching her hips sway as she took a few steps towards the elevator. Watching her walk away is not the best way to get rid of a hard-on, pendejo, he thought.
She hesitated for a split second and turned back around, striding purposefully back towards him. When she got close, she leaned in and raised a hand to lightly grip the back of his neck, pulling him towards her. He didn't think it was possible to be more turned on at that point, but realized he was dead wrong. His heart pounded inside his chest.
Her soft lips grazed his ear and she whispered huskily, "If you'd like a test drive of Cerberus' most expensive project to date, come by my quarters later."
He looked at her, surprised. "Is that an order, Commander?" he asked as an apprehensive but delighted smile began to spread across his face.
"It is if you need it to be, Lieutenant," she replied with a suggestive tilt to her mouth and strode back to the elevator, shooting him a quick smile just before the doors closed.
A few hours later James entered the elevator from the crew deck, freshly showered and in a clean, regulation Alliance t-shirt. He punched the button for Deck 1, then leaned back against the wall, gathering himself for whatever might happen that evening.
"Hold that!" he heard a gruff male voice yell out and Kaidan Alenko's slight, dark-haired figure quickly came into view, shoving his arm in between the doors and stepping into the elevator seconds before they closed .
"Lieutenant," Kaidan nodded at him.
"Major," James returned in greeting, offering a casual salute.
Kaidan turned to punch his floor and hesitated when he saw the button for Deck 1 lit up. He turned and gave James a searching look, his eyes resting finally on the bottle of Peruvian whiskey clutched in James' fist. Kaidan just received an impassive stare in response. He cleared his throat and punched the button to take him to the CIC, staring forward as the lift began to move again.
As Kaidan was stepping off a moment later, he hesitated for a second and turned back.
"Good move with the whiskey," he said with a nod towards the bottle. "She'll like that."
James looked surprised for a second and looked down at the bottle he held in his hand.
"Uh... thanks man," he said with a nod.
Kaidan nodded in return and strode out of sight.
The elevator doors whooshed closed and James tensed as he felt it begin rising again. It felt just a little weird that her old lover knew what he was up to and had apparently just given his blessing. James really had no clue how things were going to play out, though. He thought maybe they'd have a drink or two and then one of them would make a move if it felt right. And he had to believe it would feel right at some point. After all, the flirting had felt as natural as anything so there was clearly an attraction. She wouldn't have invited him otherwise, would she?
Suddenly the doors whooshed open again and he stood paralyzed for a second staring at the corridor outside her quarters. He finally took a deep breath and forced his legs to move to her door. He pushed the comm button and heard her voice say, "Come in, James".
He entered and paused for a moment in the doorway, adjusting his eyes to the dimmer light of her quarters. He'd only been in here once before and had made a dumb comment about it being too soft, but he realized he'd been exaggerating. It was almost as stark as the crew quarters were. Sure, she had a bigger bed with more pillows, but that was the limit of the 'softness' and she had insisted that the bed was harder than it looked. He was looking forward to testing that theory.
"Nice fish," he said, gesturing to the glowing wall-sized aquarium. It had been devoid of life the last time he'd seen it, but now held a nice variation of different galactic species of aquatic life flitting about.
"James," he heard her voice speaking to him as he studied the fish. He turned abruptly and saw her seated comfortably on the sofa that bordered one low wall of her bedroom. She beckoned to him and patted the seat next to her softly.
As if on autopilot, he walked down the steps to her sunken living area and sat down on the sofa where she indicated.
"Oh! You brought whiskey," she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw the bottle. He handed it to her and she leaned to the coffee table grabbing two clean glasses she'd apparently had waiting. She uncorked the bottle and poured them each a measure of the rich-smelling liquor, handing him one tumbler and tilting the other to her lips.
He took a slow sip and finally looked at her. The first thing he noticed was that she'd taken her hair down and it fell in thick, black waves down her back and over her shoulders, framing her pretty face. It had never occurred to him how much hair she actually had until now because she'd always kept it pinned up in a tight coil at the back of her head. She'd never let it down that he'd seen, even during the period when he'd been guarding her while she was in custody at Alliance headquarters on Earth. War criminal my ass, he'd thought. She's already prevented infinitely more deaths than she's caused. That already felt like a millennium ago.
He watched as she tossed back the short glass of whiskey and then poured herself another before sitting back and looking at him with her pale, piercing blue eyes. He felt a little self conscious under her steady, intelligent gaze.
"I like the look," he said, trying to sound casual and gesturing at her hair. "It's good on you." He reached out with his free hand and twirled a loose black wave around one finger.
"I'll be damned," he heard her say with abrupt realization. He looked at her with his brow creased. She sat looking at him with an expression of mild surprise on her face.
"You're nervous, aren't you, James?" she asked as if it were the biggest discovery of the century.
He sat speechless for a second at the accusation, a wave of conflicting responses stampeding through his mind. Finally he shrugged in surrender.
"Maybe a little," he said with a weak smile at her. "You are Commander Shepard... larger than life."
"Do I really seem that way to you right now?" she asked softly. She turned towards him and pulled one leg up onto the sofa, bending her knee. Her posture and her expression carried an air of command that her voice hadn't, even as relaxed as she was. She wanted him to look at her. She wanted him to give her an honest answer.
He took another long swallow of whiskey and waited for several seconds until he started feeling the low burn in his center and everything around him became a little softer. Then he looked at her.
He studied her intently for several moments. She seemed... different than he was used to, that much was certain at first. Her dark, wavy hair was thick and loose around her shoulders, her pale face was slightly flushed from the whiskey. She seemed calm but concerned. She was beautiful, he realized. He'd never thought of her that way when she was in uniform with her hair bound up. She was always just the Commander. The badass bitch who'd kicked the Collectors' asses, which was sexy as hell on its own. But now that all her hard edges seemed to have been chiseled away it was obvious to him she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. And she'd decided to spend the night with him. Don't fuck this up, pendejo, he heard a small voice say inside his head.
"No. You seem... real," he said as his eyes roved over her.
She was wearing a snug black shirt with long sleeves and a red stripe down one arm - standard N7 issue casual wear, he realized. But she wore it very well. It hugged her in all the right places, and he realized abruptly that she wasn't wearing a bra, either. The hard tips of her breasts pushed alluringly at the soft fabric. He raised an eyebrow at the questions that brought up as his gaze went lower to her snug black pajama bottoms and bare feet.
She smiled at him and took a sip of whiskey. "What are you thinking, James?" she asked with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
He smiled back. "Just wondering if you're wearing any underwear underneath that," he answered honestly, gesturing to her clothing.
"Well, I guess there's one way for you to find out," she said suggestively, smiling behind her glass.
He finished his drink in a quick swallow and set the glass back on the table. It really is liquid courage, he thought as he kicked off his boots and socks, wiggling his bare toes against the rough carpet beneath them.
He turned his head to look at her and saw her studying him intently. She finished her own drink and set the empty glass on the table. She reached for the bottle and waved it at him gently with a look of inquiry. He shook his head and she set it down again and leaned back on the sofa, gazing at him with her clear blue eyes.
"It's a shame you don't wear it down more often," he said softly. He reached out a hand and toyed with one of the dark waves of her hair that cascaded over her breast, twisting it around one of his large fingers. As his hand hovered there his fingers brushed accidentally over the hard tip that strained through the fabric of the shirt. He heard a sharp intake of breath at the contact and saw her pupils expand with arousal.
He responded to the slight cue, shifting closer to her and sliding his hand down, caressing the side of her breast and then cupping it softly through the fabric of her shirt. He flicked his thumb over its hard tip, eliciting a soft moan from her. He raised his other hand and slid it to the back of her neck, threading his fingers into her thick, dark hair. He paused for a second, looking into her eyes and drawing courage from the desperate heat he saw within them. He pulled her towards him and captured her mouth in his.
Her lips were soft and tasted of whiskey. His heart sped up when he felt her tongue dart out and tease at his lower lip. He plunged his own tongue past her parted lips, exploring and tasting as he went. She moaned softly in response and he felt her shift positions, sliding closer to him. She pulled back from him and he saw her flushed face briefly. Her lips were slightly parted and raw desire filled her eyes. She shifted closer towards him and slung her leg over his hips, straddling him and looking down at him.
He felt her hips rest on his and the exquisite pressure of her weight on his erection made him feel like he was about to explode out of his black fatigues. His hands fell to her hips and gripped her tightly. He felt her hips grind against his and he moaned, then her mouth was on his, muffling his small exclamations of pleasure.
God, he wanted her. He didn't care if she was his commanding officer. She was just an amazingly beautiful, sexy woman who'd all but thrown herself at him, and here she was, wrapped around him and moaning in pleasure. Don't fuck this up, dumbass.
He snaked one hand under the hem of her shirt, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips as he trailed them up her spine. He slid his hand around to her chest and cupped one of her full breasts, tweaking the tip gently between his thumb and forefinger. She let out a low moan against his mouth. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled up, forcing her to break away from their kiss. She sat back and gave him a small, sultry smile and raised her arms up so he could pull the shirt off over her head.
Damn, she was as perfect as he'd always imagined she would be. He couldn't help but just sit and gaze at her bare, creamy skin for a moment. Her voice finally brought him back to the present.
"You just going to sit and stare at them?" Shepard said, looking down at him with an amused expression.
"So... these are the originals?" he asked, looking up at her with a smile as he admired her breasts.
"Except for the skin, yeah," she said with a perplexed grin.
"Huh... I guess even Cerberus knew they couldn't improve on perfection," he said distractedly, and reverently slid his hands up her sides and cupped both breasts.
He leaned in and flicked his tongue gently over one hard, pink tip, inciting another moan of pleasure from her. He spent a moment giving equal attention to both creamy, pink-tipped orbs and felt her fingers twine through his short-cropped hair as she writhed in pleasure on his lap. He pulled back to meet her eyes and her mouth was on his again, kissing him hungrily.
"Shirt. Off. Now," she insisted, pulling at the hem of his tight white t-shirt. He obliged by lifting his arms so she could pull the garment off over his head.
He shivered as she traced her fingertips over the dark tattoos that covered the side of his neck and his shoulder. She bent her head and placed soft kisses along the path her fingertips burned onto his skin. He moaned as her mouth moved lower, her soft, wet tongue darting out and teasing at his nipples. She kissed her way back up to his mouth and her lips locked with his again. Her hands trailed lower down his abdomen and he felt a soft tug as she began to unfasten the button of his fatigues and there was a light, tickling vibration against his erection as his zipper came down.
He wrapped his arms around her back and held her tightly, reveling in the feel of her warm, naked skin against his. He stood up and carried her to the bed. She stopped kissing him for a moment and met his eyes with a smile of approval. He laid her down and gripped the waistband of her pants, pulling them down slowly over her hips, pausing and smiling when he saw that she was, indeed, not wearing underwear beneath. So much for the black lace thong fantasy, he thought, but he wasn't particularly disappointed with the alternative, if he had to admit it. Seeing the black muff between her thighs was more than enough to make up for it.
He pulled her pants the rest of the way off, then quickly divested himself of his own pants. He smiled at her look of appreciation as her eyes raked over his naked body. Her gaze lingered below his waist and he felt a sudden throb in his groin when her tongue snaked out and she licked her lips. Her long legs scissored together briefly before he reached down and pulled her ankles apart, his mouth quirked in a soft smile.
"I have some work to do, Commander, now hold still..." He parted her thighs with his large hands and moved down between them. She bent her knees and opened up to him eagerly and he slid one hand gently down her inner thigh in a soft caress until he reached the dark fringe that covered the folds of her sex. With both thumbs he gently spread her open and slid one large digit gently over her slick, velvety flesh. He heard her moan and her hips rose up slightly in response to his light touch. He felt her fingers slide through his hair as he bent for a first taste, then shortly lost himself in the feel of her soft flesh against his tongue.
She writhed beneath him as his tongue went to work on her. He heard her gasp out soft exclamations of pleasure and praise that just egged him on. He gently sucked and teased at her small, pulsing bud, relentlessly teasing until he heard her scream his name when he finally made her come several minutes later, then she lay there nearly helpless and gasping for breath. He kissed her lightly on the hip and slid his his tanned, muscular bulk up her body, supporting his weight on one elbow while one large hand caressed her silky skin and his mouth kissed gently as he went.
He paused at her breasts, teasing again at their tips until she moaned in ecstasy. She could feel his hard length of engorged sex pressing against her hip and reached down with one hand to stroke him gently. He let out a deep moan against her breast at the feel of her hand on him and shifted up further, bending his head over hers and kissing her deeply while she continued to stroke him.
When he broke from the kiss a moment later, she said in a husky voice, "Fuck me, James."
Sweeter words he thought he'd never heard. He smiled and shifted his body to cover hers, holding himself above her on both elbows. He felt her legs wrap around him almost instantly and he reached one hand down between them to position himself at her slick entrance.
"Yes," he heard her whisper when his tip parted her soft, wet folds. She tilted her head back and moaned in ecstasy as he slowly slid his thick, hard length into her.
"Oh, fuck, you feel so good," she gasped, meeting his eyes again.
Words could not begin to describe the exquisite pleasure he felt being inside her. Not even his silly fantasies came close to how good she felt with her hot flesh wrapped around him and her naked skin sliding against his. He groaned when he felt her legs tighten around his hips, pulling him deeper into her.
"Fuck me," she whispered again insistently as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a deep, penetrating kiss.
He began to pump into her slowly and deliberately, seeking to enjoy every second and make this night last as long as possible. Her hips rose up to meet him with each steady thrust. He felt her tempo begin to increase subtly and sped up to meet her pace. He broke away from their kiss and bent his head to her breast, capturing one hard, pink bud between his lips and sucking. She moaned and bucked her hips harder against his in response. He switched to the other breast and she arched her back, gasping in pleasure.
He felt her legs clench him tighter and her hands suddenly gripped his head, urging him back up and kissing him fervently. The clench of her muscles around him was deliciously tight and he soon felt the familiar pressure building at the base of his shaft. He moaned against her lips and she made a low sound in her throat that began to grow in volume. Her hips began grinding almost violently against his and she broke from the kiss, crying out his name as her orgasm took her. The spasm of her tight muscles drew him abruptly to his own release and he dropped his head to her shoulder letting out a guttural groan accompanied by a final series of hard, deep thrusts.
He let out a few quick, ragged breaths as he felt the contractions of his orgasm finally subside and the exquisite clench of her muscles relaxed. He collapsed beside her and lay breathing heavily.
She sighed next to him and nuzzled softly against his neck.
"Shepard, that was amazing," he said, staring at the field of stars beyond her skylight and blinking with surprise.
"It's Lola, pendejo," she said huskily, "And we're not even close to finished for the night."