My favorite AU idea is always Garrus working at C-Sec and Shepard working on the Citadel for an NCIS like organization. She often gets into trouble with C-Sec and that's how she meets Garrus. They become friends before the events on ME1. I know, that is the exact start of the plot in Solid Fluidity, I'm aware how uncreative that is but it's still my favourite so I combined it with the fake relationship trope.

Thanks to vorchagirl and blueteaparty for organizing the Leather & Lace 2018 event. It took me forever to write but better late than never.

A giant thank you to natsora for her ruthless editing and cleaning up this mess.

His omni-tool pings again. He's about to push the call away but he sees it's his sister. He's got a bad feeling about it. The smuggler he arrested sneers at him and he waves an officer over to take him off his hands.

"Hang on Solana," he speaks into his tool and walks outside to find a quiet place. But Solana isn't having it.

"I'm not! Where are you?"

"I'm at work, where else?"

"You were supposed to meet us at the docks! Father is furious."

Garrus stops dead in his tracks, his subharmonics wheezing in panic. "At the docks? You're already here?" His parents, his father mostly, has threatened for months that he would come to the Citadel and take matters with Garrus in his own hands. "Next week, you're supposed to come next week!"

"No, no, this week" his sister whispers in his aural implant. "Futuo, I knew you didn't listen, you are the worst."

"Futuo scrassim!" he hisses in the old dialect.

"I hope you thought of a solution," Solana urgently whispers. "I'm hanging up, father is going to call you now." The connection terminates with a soft click before he can say anything.

Instantly his omni-tool pings again and he sees his father's signature. Bracing himself, he connects the call. "Hello father."

"You were supposed to meet us."

"I thought you'd come next week."

The subharmonic groan of disappointment is loud enough to carry over the omni-connection. "We are settling in our hotel and will meet you there."

"I'm at work." That is the only argument that will ever have any weight with his father.

A trill later, his father orders him to meet them for dinner after the end of his shift in three hours. He can hardly refuse.

"I'll be there."

Another trill hisses through the line. "With them."

"Them?"

"Your prospective bondmate. Either you show me that you're actively working on fulfilling your duty towards the family, or I will arrange a bonding for you."

"Father, no," he protests, knowing that it's futile.

"See you tonight."

The call terminates. Garrus drags his hand over his fringe. It's hopeless, he can't avoid this anymore. Either he finds himself a bondmate in three hours or his father will set him up with someone from his political friends.

A text message from Solana pops up, saying, "Can't wait to meet her!" with a rude sign.

Maybe he should ask some elcor to play his date, just to annoy his father. He'll be forced into a suitable bonding anyway.

"Hey, Garrus," an officer calls out. "Your friend Shepard has been arrested again, if you don't want the executor all over her case, you'd better hurry."

A pinch of warm excitement jumps in his gizzard at that name. His day usually gets much more enjoyable when Shepard is around. He's always glad to see her, they've developed an easy friendship after working together on some cases and a few shared beers. Shepard had been helping him on his last two cases. Without her, he'd never be able to arrest the smuggling gang. He owes her. And the executor is always looking for an excuse to complain to her superiors for meddling with C-Sec affairs. He likes working with her too much to let that happen.

Rounding the corner to the holding cells, he stops dead in his tracks. The last time he has seen Lieutenant Shepard, she wore baggy pants and an old shirt. Before that he has only seen her in those blue one piece dresses she calls BDUs. The woman in the holding cell looks completely different and she's making his fringe buzz.

She wears black boots that go over her knees and the heels make her a good chunk taller. Her dress is bright red with a slim skirt that barely touches the top of her boots. A blue ribbon is tied around her waist, drawing his eye. A sheer, light shawl drapes over her shoulders, accentuating her neck more than it hides it. He can't stop staring. Her legs seem to go on forever, he wants to wrap his hands around her waist and look closer at her collarbone. He's had no idea Shepard could look like this.

"Hey C-Sec, you're drooling," she says with a laugh. It takes him a moment to realize she means him.

"I... you... you look different."

Shepard cocks her hip and saunters over to to him, stopping at the mass effect field that separates them. "Good different I hope. I was aiming for classy and sexy." She turns around slowly, giving him a full view of her slim but strong waist, her shapely ass and long legs.

He swallows. "Yes. I mean, classy and sexy, yes."

Shepard laughs and grins at him. "Wow, I really got your higher brain functions there, didn't I? I'd take that as a compliment."

He trills his admiration and tries to get himself under control again. "Yes, it definitely is a compliment. What were you up to, looking like this?"

"I got some intel. People dealing with illegal weapon mods at a party, so I tried to get in, mingle with the other guests, maybe find out more about the guy."

Garrus issues the command to turn off the mass effect field and leads Shepard into his office. She gets a few looks from the other officers as they walk through the hall.

"It says here you got arrested for breaking and entering and assault." Garrus closes the door behind her and gestures at the chair in front of his desk. She drops into the chair and puts her feet up on his desk, her long legs in those thigh-high boots prominently on display. He sits down in his chair and decides to enjoy the view. She looks stunning and dangerous at the same time.

"I wasn't invited to the party and the guard didn't appreciate my arguments to let me in," she says with a grin, clenching her fist.

Garrus watches the muscles on her neck flex under the thin material of the shawl. He never disliked humans like his father but now he understands why one can even find them attractive. He likes Shepard a lot, she is a good friend and he trusts her. And she looks amazing.

An idea forms in his head. He can't escape his family but he can certainly make a spectacle of this stupid dinner tonight.

He hums at her, letting his gaze travel over her legs up to her waist. "Let's say I get those charges out of the way, would you do me a favor?"

"Spiky, you know I'd probably do you a favor anyway, if you keep looking at me like that," she laughs. "You know how to make a girl feel appreciated." Her cheeks turn rosy-red as she brushes down her skirt.

"You really look stunning," he says.

"Thanks." She looks up to him through her lashes and his heart skips a beat. He isn't quite sure what her body language means but to him it looks like she's challenging him to prove his turianess. At the same time, her smile is shy. Humans are so contradictory.

"So what's the favor?" she asks.

"My parents and my sister came to the Citadel today and they want me to have dinner with them and present my..." — something stops him from saying bondmate — "my romantic friend."

Shepard raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"Would you pretend to be my romantic friend?"

She stares at him. "Let me get this straight. You don't have a girlfriend but your family expects you to have one and now you want me to go to that dinner with you and pretend to be your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asks, scrunching up her nose. Human faces are so squishy. "Why not just tell them that you don't have a girlfriend and it's none of their business if you do?"

"Because my father made it his business. If I don't present a partner, he will contract someone for me."

Shepard lets her feet drop from the table and leans forward. "What, like an arranged marriage?"

The translation matrix presents a few meanings for the expression. He nods. "Yes, sort of like that. My family is very traditional."

"And you think if I play your girlfriend, he won't do that?"

Garrus hisses his annoyance and notices how Shepard flinches. "No, he probably will call for a contract anyway but it will piss him off immensely if I turn up with a human girlfriend."

"Oh, I think I get it now. He hates humans, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Come to think of it, it won't be an amusing evening for you, I shouldn't ask you to do this."

Shepard laughs. "No worries, I've had worse assignments." She types a few things into her omni-tool. "We need to prepare for this. How we met, how long we've known each other, what our favorite foods are..."

Garrus hums to dispel her worries. He doesn't expect the evening to last long. "I'm sure we can improvise."

Shepard shakes her head. "What's my name?"

"Your name? Shepard, of course."

"No, that's my family name, what's my first name?"

He turns to the pad in his hand.

"No peeking!" She stares him down until he hums his defeat.

"I don't know."

"Jane, my name is Jane Shepard."

She gives him a wide smile and somehow he feels connected to her, closer than before.

"My name is Garrus Vakarian, but you know that."

"Yes."

Her smile is addictive, he wants to feel it on the skin between his plates.

She turns back to her omni-tool. "So, how did we meet?"

"I arrested you back when you investigated that volus dealer and after your boss called my boss, the charges were dropped and I took you out to dinner."

"Oh, that's a good one!" She grins and shows him the image of a restaurant front. "That's where we went out to eat, they serve levo and dextro food. So that was six weeks ago, wasn't it? So we're still pretty new, that's good, we don't know everything about each other yet." She nods and puts a note into her omni-tool. "Where are we meeting tonight?"

"At their hotel, I think."

"I hope the restaurant has levo stuff."

"I'm sure they do." Almost all restaurants on the Citadel have levo and dextro food.

"Ok, when we're there, you'll order Spaghetti Carbonara for me, that's my favorite dish. What's yours?" She looks at him expectantly, fingers poised over her omni-tool to make a note.

The way she looks at him, childlike excitement in her eyes, makes him want to get lost in those eyes. He shakes his head to pry his thoughts away and tries to come up with a favorite dish. "Garlefka, fresh or roasted," he says, to say anything. He doesn't really care.

Shepard looks up the dish and wrinkles the top of her nose as she looks at an image. "Are those lizards?"

"Yes, they live on Palaven's beaches."

Shepard hums with a tone that sounds like disgust but shrugs. "As long as I don't have to eat it..." She gets up, the material of her boots creaking. "When are we meeting them? I have to clean up and change."

"You don't have to change, you look great."

"Flattering, but this is not what Jane Shepard wears when she meets her boyfriend's parents."

Garrus sighs. "Can you at least keep the boots on?"

Shepard shakes her head. "They're cheap and noisy, haven't you noticed?" She moves her leg up to the creaking of the boots. But all he can do is stare down her thigh where her skirt has ridden up.

She either doesn't notice him staring or chooses to ignore it. "Tell you what, I have another pair of boots, not quite so high but of nicer material, I'll wear those and a longer dress." She straightens her dress and turns to leave. "Oh, wait, where do you live? We should go together."

Garrus nods and sends her his contact details. "Can you be there in about two hours?"

"Sure, no problem." She waves and prances out of his office.

He can't help but stare after her until she's out of sight before falling back into his chair. Somehow this whole idea has taken a strange turn, he isn't quite sure if he still has his life under control.

Garrus fastens the last button on his newest suit when the door announces his visitor. He takes one last look at his reflection, swallowing down his nervousness. They are just pretending, there is no need to be this nervous about this. This isn't a real date.

He thumbs the pad at the door.

"Hello, boyfriend!" Shepard greets him cheerfully,walking past him into his apartment.

The heels on her boots are not quite as high but they still make her taller, the hem of her dress plays around her knees and swings with every step. It is dark red with a blue tint and looks great on her. She turns back to him and he stares at her hair. A half circular thing made of metal, sits on top of her hair. Long, glinting spikes point backwards in a vaguely familiar way.

"What is that on your head?" he blurts out.

Shepard turns deep red and her hands go to the decorative thing on her head to pull at it. "Sorry, I knew it was stupid, I just — "

"No, wait, what is it?"

Shepard sighs, letting her hands drop. "The hairstylist said this is something turian women wear to accentuate their fringes. I don't have a fringe but I can wear it like a headband. I thought it would look nice to you. I shouldn't have, it was stupid."

"No, I like it." It does indeed look like she has a turian fringe, something the romantic partner to a turian would try to emulate. "That was a good idea and you look great."

"Thank you," she says, "you too. I like that suit, I didn't know you had such a nice body under that bulky armor."

He hides his sudden self consciousness under a cough and turns to put on his boots. Shepard strolls through his apartment, looking at things he has put on the shelves. She picks up a framed image. "This is your family?"

He walks over. "Yes, that's my maternal grandmother, those are my parents and that's my sister Solana. This was a few years ago, my grandmother doesn't live anymore."

"Sorry."

"No need, she lived a good life. She was a highly decorated officer and a war hero."

"Do I want to know what war?" Shepard asks, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He trills uneasily. "Probably not."

"I see." She puts the picture back and looks over his collection of vintage games and weapon mods. She picks up an old scope and peers through it at him. "Ok, question."

"Yes?"

"Your father hates humans?"

Garrus begins to hum his emotion before he realizes that she probably doesn't get the meaning. "I don't know if it's hate but he finds humans annoying."

"Annoying upstarts, I've heard that before," Shepard says with a shrug. "Now our date, do you want me to annoy him with bad behaviour or..."

"I thought about this," Garrus says. "I know I will have to find a bondmate eventually and all I can hope for is to keep my father off my back for some more time. But he won't believe me if you act like the worst girlfriend of the galaxy."

"No drunken shenanigans, got it."

"Shenanigans?"

"Things, actions, whatever." Shepard shakes her short hair and adjust the headband, looking at her reflection in the window. "I can be very charming, you know?"

He doesn't doubt that for a second, he has seen her charm her way into all sorts of places. He may have fallen for her charms himself.

"I know you can. Are you ready to go?" he asks, offering his arm.

She takes a deep breath and for once she looks a little nervous. "Yes, let's go." She links her arm with his and looks up to him with an apprehensive smile. "Turians don't eat humans, right?"

Garrus laughs with a trill. "Not often, as far as I know."

"Very funny, Vakarian."

He puts his hand over hers in the crook of his elbow and hums at her. "I'll protect you."

"You better," she says with a growl, sounding like she has her own subharmonics. "You owe me for this, I hope you're aware of that."

He whistles a short yes and leads her out of the apartment, into the elevator. Her hand stays in the crook of his arm, even though nobody can see them. When the doors of the elevator open to the foyer, he is glad for it because right there, waiting for them, is his family.

Solana grins and her subharmonics are chattering in excitement. His mother guards her expression and subharmonics well. She wears a polite smile. His father does not look polite and his growling subharmonics overlay every other sound in the hall.

"Garrus," he calls out, not sparing Shepard a glance. Garrus feels an unusual bout of anger rising at the disrespect.

"I thought we were to meet at the restaurant?" Garrus says with disapproval in his subharmonics.

His father's subharmonics screech but before he can say anything, his mother steps between them with a hiss.

"Stop your posturing, you two." She turns to Shepard and inclines her head. "My name is Talina Vakarian, I'm the mother to these two fabulous children and the wife to this impolite husband."

Garrus' father turns away with a huff and strides towards the door.

Talina Vakarian sighs but there is a warning tone to her subharmonics that Garrus remembers well from his childhood. There will be an unpleasant conversation about this in the near future. Garrus can hardly suppress his glee.

"I'm sure Aethius will remember his manners at some point," Talina says, "I apologize on his behalf."

"No worries," Shepard says with a smile. "I didn't expect him to like me." She holds out her hand and Talina takes it after a short hesitation. "My name is Jane Shepard, I'm glad to meet you."

Talina Vakarian looks warmly at Shepard. Garrus feels some tension drop from his shoulders. At least his mother treats Shepard decently.

"This is my daughter and Garrus' sister Solana," Talina says, gesturing towards Solana.

Solana practically jumps forward and shakes Shepard's hand enthusiastically. "It's so nice to meet you." She takes Shepard's arm and leads her out, chattering how she worked with a human recently and what he taught her.

Garrus follows, his mother at his side.

"A human, son? You never mentioned her."

"It's still kind of new," Garrus says with a careful trill. He feels like a liar and no turian has ever been good at lying, especially towards their mother.

Talina looks at him with a thoughtful hum but doesn't say anymore.

The dinner goes surprisingly well. Shepard is indeed very charming. She and Solana entertain everyone with stories of interspecies misunderstanding. Even Aethius Vakarian can be heard chuckling with an amused trill sometimes.

Garrus can't take his eyes off her. She talks with her whole body, her hands making gestures and sections of her face deform in the most fascinating way. When she catches him watching, she smiles at him and it shines like the brightest sun. How has he been so blind? How has he not seen what an amazing person she is?

Through the meal, she displays little signs of affection to him, a hand casually holding his, a soft brush over his mandible, leaning her shoulder against his cowl. It all feels very real. The way she smiles at him, the soft touches, he can't tell if she is faking it or not. It feels real to him, even if he knows that it isn't.

The waiter cleans up their plates and Shepard orders coffee. She takes his hand again, her thumb softly stroking over the skin between his plates. His heart skips a beat. She says something about Garrus having tasted coffee once and how he hated it, a story that she makes up on the spot but Garrus isn't listening.

They are supposed to pretend, they are just friends putting on an act. But his heart jumping in his chest, his subharmonics wanting to sing to her, tell a different story. He doesn't want this to end, he doesn't want it to be pretend anymore. But she is here as a friend, playing this game as a favour to him. How can he possibly turn this around without coming across as a total creep?

Aethius Vakarian stands up as soon as Shepard has finished her coffee and says, "This has been an enjoyable evening. I have booked a slot at the shooting range tomorrow morning for Garrus and me. I would like it if you could join us, Lieutenant Shepard."

Shepard stares with her mouth open before she gets her wits back and gives Aethius her brightest smile. "That is very kind of you, I will come."

"I have to work?" Garrus throws in, a bit overwhelmed by this sudden display of friendliness from his father.

"Your shift doesn't start before eleven, I'll pick you both up at your apartment at 7:40, we'll have plenty of time."

"Of course." Garrus just trills his acceptance, his father has never had any respect for things like sleeping in.

A few pleasantries later, Aethius ushers his wife and daughter out of the restaurant under loud protests from Solana, and Shepard and Garrus remain alone at the table. She let go of his hand as soon as his family left.

"Your father is not much for sleeping in, is he?"

"No, he considers that a waste of valuable time where you could be productive instead."

Shepard makes a thoughtful hum in the back of her throat that sounds incredibly sexy to Garrus. He has to clamp down on his subharmonics with all his might to not hum an equally sexy answer at her.

"A plan," she says and turns to look at him. "Your father is obviously expecting me to stay at your place, which kind of makes sense with all the bonding stuff your parents kept talking about."

Garrus trills in embarrassment. That had been an uncomfortable part of the evening but Shepard had taken it in stride, listening to the explanations of the rituals and asking questions about them. Whenever the questioning came close to asking when their bonding would be, Shepard had squeezed his hand and somehow changed the subject.

"I'm not willing to get up even earlier than I already have to, to sneak into your place before your father shows up, so we're going to stop at my place and I'll pick up some things before we go to your place."

Garrus swallows his excited trill and nods. "Good plan. We can watch a movie or something." The question where she will sleep hovers in his mind and he doesn't dare to touch it.

"Okay then."

They both get up and take the skycar to one of the nondescript housing sections of the Citadel. There is no hand holding, no soft touches and he misses it. In this short time, her casual touches have become a natural thing to him.

As they stop at an apartment building she gestures for him to get out. "Listen, before I carry all my stuff over to your place, I'm just gonna take a quick shower here and put on something casual before we go to your place, alright?"

Garrus nods and follows her into the elevator, desperately avoiding to stare at her during the ride. Her high boots hugging her calves make his mouth water and he wants to put his hands on that belt and feel her slim waist under his hands. How would it feel? Soft like her arm when she linked it with his? Or firm like a turian waist? She doesn't have plates, that he knows, so all that soft skin will just go on and on forever?

Now he's staring openly at her, suppressing his lusty subharmonics as best as he can.

"What?" she asks, an eyebrow raised.

"You look good," is all he can say.

"Oh," she looks up to him, "I thought you were disappointed that it wasn't that party dress and the ridiculous boots anymore."

"What? No," he calls out, a panicked trill under his voice. "You look great, you..." You look so beautiful that I want sing it out into the world. "I guess I should have told you that earlier."

"Forgive my human ignorance but you turians are hard to read sometimes," she says, cocking her head with a smile. "I think you put a lot into all those hums and melodies under your voice but I don't know what they mean. There's no translation matrix for them, I've looked."

The elevator opens to the correct floor and Garrus almost forgets to follow her. She has looked for a translation matrix for his subharmonics? Would someone do that just for pretending?

He hurries after her. Her apartment is small and functional, it looks pre-furnished and not much lived in. Only one shelf holds some things that look personal. Shepard is sitting on a desk chair by the large window and takes off her boots. They fall open at the sides, revealing a black sheen over her skin. Garrus quickly turns to the shelf so that he'll not stare.

"Just make yourself at home on the couch, I'll be right back," she says, slipping out of the boots, tapping over to a door at the side. Garrus concentrates more intensely on the contents of the shelves, looking at simple pictures and little objects he can't quite figure out the purpose of.

He picks up a rectangular thing in a ghastly color and fiddles with it until it opens in the middle. It reveals two small screens and a few buttons. "Shepard, what is this?"

"What?" Shepard peeks out of the door.

"This thing here, with the screens."

"That's an old game-console, over a hundred years old. I have a few of them, from different production times." She walks over and picks another little thing from the shelf. "This one is newer, I played on it as a child. It was old but I loved it."

"You collect game-consoles?" Garrus' mandibles hang slack as he thinks about his own collection of old games and gamepads.

"Not professionally but when I come across one, I'll get it if I can."

"I... do that too."

"Really? You have to show me your collection." She smiles that childlike wonderment back in her eyes. "Do yours still work?"

He swallows around the whirlwind of emotions dancing under his cowl. "Not all of them but most work, yes."

"That's really cool. Mine don't, unfortunately, you can't get batteries anymore and I haven't had time to make my own generator."

"I could help you with that."

"That would be really cool. Hey, can you help with the zipper on the back, it seems to be stuck." She turns her back to him. He pinches the connector with his talons and wiggles it.

He fumbles but after carefully prying the layers of fabric apart, the connector thing goes all the way down and her dress falls open over her shoulders. His gaze travels down her spine and gets stuck on her waist. "What is that?"

She tries to turn her back away from him but he takes the same step to stay behind her. "Nothing, it's silly."

He stares at the thing around her waist. It's a black lace material, a 'pretty thing of nothing' as a friend has called this kind of fabric before. It sits high on Shepard's waist, accentuating it in a way that makes all of his blood rush down to his slit. "No, what is that?"

"A garter belt. It's an old-fashioned thing for holding up stockings, not needed anymore today but I thought..."

"What?" He brushes the pad of his finger over that lacy thing of nothing.

"I heard that turians like the waist and this thing kind of sits right there and... sorry, it was stupid."

"You put this on for me?"

Shepard turns around to face him. Her cheeks are glowing like a sunset on Palaven. "Listen, I don't know why I did that, I know this was just for show and I shouldn't..."

"Shepard, stop," he interrupts. His hand hovers between them, yearning to touch her face but trapped in the uncertainty. "I'm a fool. I never thought..."

"Never thought what?" The corner of her lip is twitching.

He takes a deep breath. "You are amazing. And I don't just mean that you look amazing, which you do, really," he gestures helplessly, "I mean, all this, Spirits, but that's not all, the way you just do things and then you smile and you make it look easy, and you even charmed my father, I never would have thought that's possible, but that's not what I mean, I mean how you always find a solution, and you're so smart..."

Shepard steps forward and puts her hand on his flapping mandible. "Hey, slow down, I'm officially charmed."

"You are?"

"Garrus, I've been trying to flirt with you since I was trapped in that warehouse, getting shot at by four LOKI mechs and you stormed in like an Archangel and took them down with only three shots."

His hand finally finds the bravery to touch her cheek and he grins. "I had them lined up, took out two with one shot."

"That was so cool!" she says, her eyes glinting. She leans into his touch. "I was ready to drop my panties right there, you only would've had to ask."

Garrus coughs on an excited trill that gets stuck in his throat. "I'm not sure I would have been able to handle that back then." He remembers that moment vividly, how she leapt out from behind the cover and attacked the batarian that had been sneaking up behind him.

Her thumb is stroking over his mandible and she takes a step closer to him. "I'm not sure what I expected from this pretend date but I thought, maybe, if we spend time together like this, you could begin to like me."

Garrus purrs with his subharmonics that he likes her very much. "I swear I didn't plan this but I thought if I was going to be stuck with my parents and their talk about bonding, at least it would be fun with you. Not that I thought I had a chance with you."

She laughs and lets the dress slip from her shoulders. "Well, you do."

He feels his subharmonics vibrate under his cowl as he stops breathing.

She wears another lacy, black thing over her chest and at the bottom but the thing on her midsection, that garter belt, draws his eyes the most. He puts his hands on the belt, spreading his fingers over her waist. It doesn't feel all that different to a turian woman, a bit softer but not repulsive. Very much not repulsive.

Blood rushes in his ear at the intimacy of this and he has to take his hands away to breathe again.

She steps into the opening he gives her, closing the distance until her body touches his. Her breath fawns over his mandibles. A hum comes from her chest, something like a moan and he isn't sure if this is something humans do or if she is doing that hum for him.

She raises herself up on her toes and pulls his head down. When she speaks, her lips brush over his mandible, "I don't want to pressure you and I don't want this to look like I just agreed to this thing to have sex with you," her lips press on his mandible in a soft kiss, "but I already know we get along well and it seems like we really like each other?"

"Yes," he hums more than he says, second voice in a permanent state of arousal.

She smirks. "So do you want this? Have sex with the human?"

"Not just any human," he says, dipping the tip of his tongue against her lips, "Only you."

She catches his tongue with her lips and draws it in, pressing her own against it. They surge against each other in desperate hunger. Her hands with her many confusing fingers spread over the back of his neck, making shudders crawl up his spine. She presses her lips against his lip plates and wraps herself around him.

"Not just any turian," she whispers between kisses. "Definitely not, you sexy fucker."

"Sexy fucker?"

"You don't even know."

Her nimble fingers work on the clasps of his clothes and he shrugs out of the overshirt like it is on fire. She traces the edges of his plates with her fingers, over his cowl and down his waist.

He groans, subharmonics tumbling over themselves between loving hums and desire filled growls. "How do you know how to do that?"

She grins and leans forward to his cowl. "What, this?" She traces the edge of his cowl plates and the skin between them with her tongue. He shudders, his second voice keening a guttural plea for her to continue.

"I may have read a few things." She grins and unclasps his waistbelt. It drops to the floor. Her soft fingers stroke his waist, maddingly slow.

He sings in desire, craving to feel her, to taste her. Surging forward, he buries his face in her neck, taking in her intoxicating scent. He traces the elegant curve of her neck with his tongue, feeling the firmness under her softness, tasting the salt of her skin under her own flowery scent.

She closes the distance, the lacy material rubbing against him. Her hands slide into the back of his pants, squeezing his ass cheeks. "Hmm," she hums, "I knew you had a great ass hidden under that armor."

He copies her, sliding his hands under the lacy material covering her behind. This area is the softest he has encountered yet. He is fascinated how he can knead and wiggle it.

"Let me get the panties off," she says and clicks open the clasps that stretch from the belt to her stockings.

"But the belt, you'll keep that on?" he stutters, staring at her as she slides the panties down.

"The garter belt? I can keep it on if you want to."

"Yes, please," he says, a little too eager.

She grins wide. "What about the stockings?" She gestures down her legs. The stockings wrap her legs in a black, glittering sheen. He can only nod.

She slides her panties down and reattaches the stockings to the clasps. He stares at her waist, how the lacy belt accentuates it and his subharmonics trill with wanton desire.

"What about my bra?" She points to the lace on her chest.

He tears his gaze away from her waist and places a hand on the side of her protruding chest. "I would like to see what is underneath there."

With a quick movement behind her back, she unclasps the thing and throws it over the back of the couch. When he hesitates to touch her, she takes both his hands and puts them under her breasts.

Garrus has to reassess his observation of softness on her body because this is the softest and most malleable thing he ever held in his hands. She guides his hands, showing him what kind of pressure he can apply and uses his thumb to stroke over the nub in the middle of each breast. To his endless fascination, those nubs turn harder and at the same time her scent changes dramatically.

Her scent draws him down. He kneels, his hands on her hips and breathes against her mons. With a look up to her, he checks for her permission before tentatively dipping his tongue forward to feel the map of her between her legs.

His tongue comes away with an incredible moisture. The scent is intoxicating and he can feel his groin plates loosening. "You are lubricated," he says, letting the taste of her spread in his mouth.

She breathes out with something like a sigh and a moan. "Wet, I'm wet for you."

"You're not lubricated all the time?"

She laughs and bends down to kiss him. "You make me sound like a car. No, I'm not wet for just anybody all the time." She kisses him again. Her tongue dips into his mouth, tangling with his. It feels different, definitely alien but the intimacy of the connection focuses him on her and soothes the burning need for her.

He growls into her mouth, letting her lay claim on him with her soft lips and blunt tongue. He opens himself up for her in the most literal sense, feeling his aroused penis slip from his slit and press against his pants. As her hands slide under his fringe at the back of his neck, her fingers find the soft bundle of nerves there, his lubentia.

She feels around it with her many fingertips. "I read about this. Can I touch it?"

His second voice drops another level at the soft ministrations she already gives him. "Yes, please."

She kneels in front of him, slowly rubbing circles around his lubentia. Pleasure prickles down his spine like an electrical current. Tension falls from his body and he slumps forward with a groan.

She snickers and kisses the top of his fringe. "I see, this is the boneless turian button." She strokes over his fringe, lightly scraping her nails into the ridges, while still rubbing his lubentia. "How about we take this to the bedroom and get rid of remaining pants on the way? And that visor."

Garrus is lost in the sensations. A deep, guttural hum rises from his chest, topped with an excited trill. Part of him can't believe this is really happening, that Shepard is really taking him by her hand and leading him to her bedroom. He follows her in a daze, his eyes glued to the lacy belt.

In the bedroom, she lets go of his hands, twirls around in front of him before dropping onto the bed. She looks at him expectantly, legs spread wide but he can only stare. The light from the window glints on the metal hairband. That finally makes him move forward, to put his hand on the fringe decoration and slide it off her hair.

She reaches up and takes his visor off, caressing his fringe just as he caresses her hair.

He is fascinated by the way her hair feels, how it falls in hundreds of strands, how it tickles between his fingers. When he lightly scrapes his talons over her scalp, she lets out a deep groan.

"Hmm, I'm not complaining," she says, leaning into his hand. "But if you don't get out of those pants soon, I may have to rip them off with my teeth."

He doesn't need another invitation. He drops his pants and hums in relief when his erection is finally free. Stepping back to her, to stand between her legs, he watches her as she stares at him.

"Can I touch?" she asks. Her gaze is fixed on his penis.

Garrus affirms with a hum, unable to form words.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," he presses out.

She touches him, her incredibly soft fingers gliding up and down his length and all blood leaves his head. She is careful, almost too hesitant but before he can say anything, her grip tightens in deliberate strokes. He sings out in a loud sigh. It's too much and not enough. He needs so much more of her.

With a growl he leans down, pressing his forehead against hers. "Can I touch?" he mimics her. The burning need under his cowl strains to get closer to her, to be one with her.

"All of me," she says, scooting backwards to give him room to come on the bed. He almost falls on top of her, his feet tangled up in his pants. But she twists him, using her strength to flip him on his back. Before he can shout, she straddles him, holding herself over his erection, hovering, waiting.

He looks in her eyes, seeing the hunger and joy in there. "Please?" he whines desperately.

It's all the invitation she needs and she lowers herself down, maddengly slow.

Her soft heat wraps around him, so tight. His subharmonic roar vibrates through the room, mixing with a moan from her. She moves slowly, up and down, taking him in deeper each time. Her hands seek purchase on his hips, her blunt nails scratching over his plates.

"Fuck, you feel so good," she moans, gyrating her hips. She is panting now, moving faster, demanding, taking her pleasure.

He raises himself up with a desperate need to feel her skin, pulling her into his arms and pressing against her. She growls, as if she doesn't quite want to give him the initiative. He lets her take the lead again. All he needs is to feel her in his arms, holding her, and hearing her moan and hum.

She has all the leverage to move her body, to surge against him and take him. He can only hold on. Her thighs lock against his waist, her hands massaging the back of his neck, making pleasure pool in his stomach. Her hips snap forward and her vagina tightens around him like a muscle. His control is slipping rapidly, he pulls her tighter, feeling her, hearing her, inhaling her scents.

She looks at him, her eyes wide and dark. She pulls and pushes, desperately moving faster, rubbing against him and her body melts into his. He feels her pleasure as his own, a connection between them, drawing them closer until they are one body bound in ecstasy. She writhes in his arms, her whole body shaking, arching backwards with a scream. He can feel her orgasm pulse around his shaft, pulling him along with a punch of pleasure, and he spills into her, his roar following her screams.

He falls backwards, all energy gone from his body, pulling her on top of him. He desperately tries to find enough air to breathe. He has never gotten this thoroughly fucked before in his life.

When his eyes can focus again, he sees her smile. "Hey," she says, "that was pretty fucking spectacular." She moves upwards, letting him slip out of her and presses her lips to his mouth plates. "You're wonderful," she murmurs between kisses.

He rolls to the side, letting her slide down on the mattress. The garter belt has twisted around her waist. The stockings have holes and long rips.

"These seem to be a lost cause," she says, pointing at the tattered stockings.

But he worries about something else. The skin on her thighs, where it was not protected by the thicker band of the stockings, is scratched in a pattern of red scrapes. Guilt drops into his gizzard. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"What are you sorry for? I'm very much alright," she says. "Haven't felt this alright in quite a while."

"But your skin." He points to the angry red scrapes.

"Oh that? Please, that's nothing. I got some nano lotion to soothe it. It will heal in no time." She strokes his mandible, smiling at him. "Humans scratch easily but it doesn't bother us much."

He buries his face into her neck and murmurs, "How did your species ever survive?"

"I honestly don't know but sexy turians will not be our demise, I'm sure." She kisses the side of his fringe, her soft lips finding all the sensitive parts.

His eyes are dropping and he is almost asleep when she untangles herself from him. He keens after her, missing her soft warmth.

"I'll be right back, I just want to get a washcloth."

He stuffs a pillow between his cowl and shoulder, stretching out. She comes back with a warm washcloth and cleans them both.. "We should take a shower," she says as she lies down on his arm again. "We still have to get to your place."

"Let's rest a bit first," he says into her hair.

She pulls a blanket over them and snuggles into him with a pillow under her head, her soft form somehow fitting to his angular one as she places a leg over the dip of his waist. She holds him as much as he holds her.

The insistent beeping of his omni-tool wakes him after what feels like a few moments. He answers the vid-call with a grunt. "What?"

"Why are you not opening the door? I'm waiting, you're already late."

By the time he registers that his father is looking sternly at him, Shepard raises her head and squints at the interface. "Good morning Dome Vakarian," she says with a sleepy smile.

Her hair sticks out in all directions and wrinkles from the pillow have formed indents on her cheek. Garrus is fascinated by this. He wants to kiss her and run his talons through her hair. An annoyed trill from his father brings him back to the current situation. "My apologies, father, we're not at my place. Just send me the coordinates and we'll meet you at the shooting range."

Aethius Vakarian trills a strange mixture of annoyance and amusement at him and ends the call.

Shepard lets out a giggle. "Well, if that doesn't convince him of our fake relationship, I don't know what will."

His heart drops through his gizzard. She still considers this to be fake? Blood rushes in his ears, so loud, he almost doesn't hear her speak.

"Garrus, no, it was a joke!" She shakes him. "Listen, it was a joke, a bad one I admit, nobody ever called me a comedian." Her lips crush against his mouth, sucking on his plates.

A keen leaves his chest in a long breath.

Shepard takes his head in her hands, spreading her fingers over his mandibles and makes him look at her. "We're not fake. Do you hear me? Not fake."

He sings his relief, putting everything he feels into his subharmonics. "I hear you."

"Not fake."

He nods, pressing his forehead against hers. "Not fake. I hear you Jane."

"I hear you too, Garrus." She kisses him. "You wonderful turian you."