Shepard wakes the next morning to the sensation of Saren lightly rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. He stops when she stretches.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

Shepard laughs a little; he is so polite, as if he isn't cupping one of her breasts.

"How long have you been doing that?"

"A while. I was beginning to wonder if you would wake up at all."

Shepard knows by now that in his usual tone of voice that sentence would be accusatory. Snide. He had the knack, above and beyond many other turians in her acquaintance, of radiating disapproval with every word. Here, now, it's a game because he's relaxed and having fun. What's more, he's having fun with her.

She reaches down under the covers and slips her panties down.

She places her hand over his and guides it down. She doesn't miss the inhale or the flush at his neck as he realizes how wet she is.

He moves with care, with Shepard letting him know how well she likes it in the languidness of her expression and the rolling of her hips. There is an early morning ease to this that is nothing like his dream, without the rise of adrenaline and the challenge of pitting their strength against each other. He finds he likes this as well, the quiet deepening of her breaths, the minute movements of her brows, the blush on her cheeks, the parting of her lips. She moves well and freely under his hand and he purrs when she comes.

She makes a small cry when he ducks his head under the covers, finding a nipple with his tongue. Her scent surrounds him, embedded into his covers and it's a wonderful cocoon. He doesn't need to see. He's seen her often enough over the past weeks in the hot tub. He wants to feel and he does, fondling her, licking and nuzzling. Shepard laughs and sighs, closing her eyes and enjoying the difference that is Saren's body, the wet softness of his tongue contrasting with the hot roughness of his plates.

He emerges finally, having straddled her. He thrums and kisses her.

"Will you let me have you?"

"How do you want me?" Shepard pets his neck.

He guides her onto her stomach. He pets her back, palms the fullness of her buttocks with his hands and murmurs the most pertinent details of his dream to her. She arches against him and he groans, pressing his keel on her. She turns her head and they kiss and he's become unsteady, indiscriminately rubbing on her, overwhelmed by how much like and yet so much better this was compared to his dream. He gets her ankles securely under his spurs, twitching her thighs apart and her little cry when he slides in is sublime.

He has just enough presence of mind to extend his biotic field out to her. She does the same and they sync, now he feels her pulse and reverberating feedback in his temples showing him that every thrust gives her pleasure. It's not embracing eternity the way asari do it; they can go deeper, make the sharing of senses more complete, but this is good enough, spirits, yes, it's so good-

Saren goes still above her and Shepard bites her lip when she feels that last bucking surge. He lets out a sated exhale before leaning down to nuzzle at her while disengaging.

She rears up, grabbing hold of his cowl and pushes him back onto the bed.

"More," she demands, testing his mood. "You can go again."

Saren blinks in surprise before he thrums, pleased.

"Yes!"

They kiss again and she moves to straddle him when he's ready for her. She strokes him, watching how his mandibles go slack and his eyes struggle to stay open. She rises up, holding him, rubbing just the tip against her. He makes the loveliest growling, pleading sound. She licks her lips and pushes him again.

"Whose dick is this? Answer me," she bares her teeth.

Saren's mandibles flare and he shows his teeth back at her, growling louder, but he makes no move, his hold on her hips don't hurt and he's not pushing her away.

"Whose dick is this," Shepard gives him a little downstroke with her hand. "Say it!"

"Nnnnngh- Yours! All yours, it's all yours-"

"Damn right it is!"

She braced herself on his cowl and thrashed him hard, riding out his bucking, daring him to outlast her. It was perfect torture. She ground down on him, coming, and his toes curled when she let out a satisfied laugh that clutched all around him. Just as he was on the brink, she rose up and let cold air hit him.

He snarled, clutching hard on her hips.

"Please," he's desperate, licking at her breasts, she's not letting him and he's going mad- "I'm begging, you have me, Shepard- Shepard- Fierce one-"

"You may," Shepard smiles, her field enveloping and sparking on him.

He plunges back in with a howl and pushes her backwards, bringing her legs up so that he can have all the leverage. They've kicked the covers off the bed with their efforts and the sight of her, all of her, of his cock parting her, those obscene wet sucking sounds with every thrust, it's dirty and perfect and fuck- FUCK-!

They lay, joined, breathing hard, until Shepard winces from their position and they carefully come apart. Saren isn't tired. He feels heady and alive. He purrs, kissing her and her slow, sated movements give him immense gratification.

"Wait here."

He goes to get the first aid kit and finds something for her skin, spreading it over her gently. She sighs with relief and he tells her to rest. She dozes and when he comes back, she sees that he has a plate of toast and a little jar of jam and some butter for her.

"Saren," she sits up, surprised.

"I'll learn more. But this, I can manage right now."

"Thank you."

Those days couldn't last. Saren hoards them in his memory, every smile he gets from his efforts to cook for her, touching her, kissing her, conversing with her, the light push and pull of their biotic fields syncing.

After Desolas' passing, he had Duty as his only reason for being and he had not known how lacking it was for his spirit, especially compared to her. He doesn't regret anything that he has done. But he sees now how reckless it was to leave himself so open to censure.

So when Nihlus brings summons from the Council, he goes and bears the questioning with equanimity. It helps that the Council wants to believe in him, they want to have him on the roster, they want very much to be proven wrong about him. He admits that he was immoderate. He further admits, to their surprise, that he would make efforts to be cooperative to the spirit of the Spectres as a whole by choosing to partner on missions. He needed to learn, he stated. And towards that, he would be partnering with Spectre Shepard.

They let him. Of course. How could they not?

Shepard tempered him, kept him from immediately going after those who moved against him. For the two of them, they would be learning to work together in the field and going into deep investigation, instead of, as she noted, his predilection of blowing things up wholesale.

They hit upon something. Prothean artifacts used to be traded as objects of curiosity in the arts markets. All of a sudden, they were being moved in the more illicit black markets in systems that did not have the idle rich. There was chatter coming from the Migrant Fleet that there were actual geth sightings. And as other Spectres were watching Saren make moves, he found others were also leaving traces of their own activities behind once he stopped and started observing the way Shepard wanted. It was curious.

"Nihlus wants to make moves for Eden Prime. An actual beacon's turned up."

"We'll meet him, then. He's been tapped as an evaluator for that joint human-turian ship development project, hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Want to see that shiny new tech?"

"Why not? He's been gloating like a child with a new toy about it. I want to see it for myself."

They set course for Eden Prime together.

finis