This chapter is (blushing) definitely M rated for sexual content and language. This continues my experiment of trying not to write Garrus as a big spiky human. Here, he tries to reciprocate Shepard's gift in his own way, while Shepard isn't quite the saint she tries to be. If you're looking for a conventional romance, this may not be the chapter for you ("From the Ashes" is more sweet and romantic).

Enjoy!

"Oh come on, Shepard, can't you move any faster? At this rate we'll get back to the Citadel just in time to meet our new Reaper overlords."

She wiped the sweat from her brow, muttering under her breath at the damaged nav module she was trying to coax into functionality. The suicide mission was a miraculous success, but the Normandy was nearly destroyed in the process. Unless they could make her spaceworthy, they'd be unable to make the final relay jump back into friendlier territory.

Garrus' snarky comments were doing little to improve her morale. She couldn't deny that the mission was stressful: the constant threat of losing teammates weighed as heavily on his conscience as on hers. But that didn't excuse all his nasty behavior since: he was constantly at her throat, picking fights over the most trivial issues. Being aboard the Collector ship had changed him, and she couldn't understand why. He seemed positively elated before the mission, as well he should: she'd spent the entire night lavishing him with healing tantric energy until his anger and bitterness melted away. They'd never been closer. It was his voice across the comm link that spurred her forward through the base, confident to the point of cockiness as the crack of his sniper rifle soothed her with its reassuring cadence. Every shot meant he was still alive, and hearing it meant so was she. It was Garrus she trusted to protect her while she took down the Reaper monstrosity, and his strong arms that brought her to safety after she launched herself across the expanding chasm, preparing to fall once again into the clutches of eternity. He pulled her in and held her so tightly she thought he might never let go. So why was he being such an asshole?

"You know, I've managed to recalibrate our entire weapons system in the time you've been poking at that module."

Stay. Calm. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Shepard forced herself to focus on happy thoughts. Puppies. Ice cream. Shoving the turian out an airlock.

"Funny, I've never known you to finish your calibrations so fast. Are you going to help me or just make smartass comments all day?"

"Oooh. She thinks I'm smart." He leaned back against a console and crossed his arms, enjoying watching her blood boil.

"Listen. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but if you're trying to start a fight it's going to have to wait. Leave me alone, Garrus."

"Suit yourself."

With that, he shrugged his shoulders and set off for the engineering deck. Shepard counted slowly to ten in every language she knew before she was calm enough to return to her frustrating task. She'd have to figure out what Garrus was so bothered about later.

Humans were such wicked creatures. After all it had taken for him to get through his thick skull that Shepard was a female, she was teasing him mercilessly by refusing to give in to his advances. She was just starting to warm up when she'd sent him away. The vicious edge in her voice was unmistakable, and the scent of adrenaline in her bloodstream was driving him crazy. Temptress. He had no idea a human could be so calculating and cruel. Unless, of course, she really didn't understand what he was trying to do. He'd been wrong about her before, more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

Were she turian, he'd long ago have fallen in love with her. That would have been a problem, since a female of her caliber would surely have attracted a far more suitable mate than an impulsive young hothead, or worse, a scarred vigilante. Even now, half the crew threw themselves at her feet. Were she turian, her prowess in battle and ferocity of spirit would have earned her a high position amid the Hierarchy. Instead, she was publicly celebrated by her kind when her actions pleased them, only to be disowned and reviled by even her closest friends at the slightest hint of dishonor. How she could withstand their relentless disrespect without tearing out their throats was beyond him. He'd initially perceived this as weakness, but had come to recognize her resilience as a sign of her unwavering strength. Perhaps the human's true asset was not her power, but her tenacity. What she couldn't overcome, she would simply endure, no matter what it cost her.

From the moment he met her, she alone had always seen the best in him. An exacting mentor, she'd always demanded the best from him. She was his inspiration, his shining beacon in the darkness, and like everyone else he'd fallen into the trap of believing she was invincible. He'd left the Normandy to apply for Spectre training, wanting to impress her, to become tough and fearless like her. When she died, he felt somehow that she'd let him down, let them all down with the revelation that she too could be broken. How selfish that seemed now; the foolish young man he'd been died a long time ago. He understood now that they weren't so different, that what she needed all along was someone she could trust to watch her six. And he'd left her. And then she died.

The Alliance didn't even have the courtesy to tell him in person. He was sitting at his terminal, toiling away at some mind-numbing paperwork when the extranet feed on the side of the screen caught his eye and stopped his heart. "Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance, first human Spectre and savior of the Citadel, was reported KIA today after an attack from an unidentified enemy ship." Nothing more. In a rare lapse of discipline, he'd locked his office door, hacking the system to chase every lead, find any shred of information that might shed light on what really happened to Shepard.

But there was no information to be found, no clue as to who destroyed the Normandy, or how they'd managed to outgun and outmaneuver the state-of-the-art warship. He was consumed by the need to avenge her: he became irritable and unfocused at work, haunted and tormented at home. As it became clear he might never find her true killer, he began to see fault in all those who contributed in some way to her death. The Alliance, who used her as a symbol to advance their own goals. The Council, who didn't hesitate to send her on increasingly hazardous missions until the inevitable occurred. They'd set her up to fail, but even in death her honor shone through. He couldn't take on the Alliance, or the Council, but he could do his part to carry on her legacy. Criminals, slavers, corrupt politicians and mercenaries: all those who hurt others for their own profit became the objects of his wrath. As his emptiness and helplessness crystallized into a grim sense of purpose, Garrus knew he could never return to C-Sec. Ever since that moment, he dedicated his life to honoring her.

None of these insights could help him to understand Shepard's behavior, nor why she'd approached him for company in the first place. Up to that point she was simply Shepard to him: a fierce warrior, a respected leader, a trusted friend but not an eligible female. It had taken him by surprise when she first suggested blowing off steam together, tripping over his words as he struggled to understand her feelings and his own. He'd been so sure she'd propositioned him for sex, certain to the point of steeling himself to provide her with anything she asked of him. It turned out all she wanted was to make him happy. Surely that was more than he deserved.

It took losing her once for him to see her as she truly was, but it wasn't until he nearly lost her again that he realized what she meant to him. Fighting aboard the Collector base was an exercise in controlled chaos, finishing off each wave of enemies only to face endless reinforcements. There was no time to think, only to react, and certainly no time to muse about what had happened the night before. Together they made it through, and as his feet touched down in the Normandy's airlock he felt giddy, exhilarated. He turned around expecting to see Shepard beside him, only to make the horrifying discovery that she'd been left behind as the base collapsed. From across the void, her gaze met his as she broke into a sprint and made the impossible jump. The realization hit him like a grenade: she trusted him to keep her safe, just as he trusted her. Catch me, or I'll be lost forever. She needed a partner, an equal; although it cost him dearly, the last few years made him strong in ways he never imagined possible. He reached out with his arms, his hope, his spirit, locking his talons around her wrist as her vault brought her just short of the Normandy. Pulling her in to safety, he held her tight, her arms encircling his waist to return the embrace, shaking with relief. The airlock sealed and the ship accelerated but he couldn't let go; his talons left marks on her armor as he clutched her to his heart and held on for dear life.

The mission had taken its toll on her, that much was obvious. Not that she ever complained about stress, or let it show in front of the crew. But he could tell: there were subtle changes in her scent, her demeanor. She always had a smile for him, always seemed to enjoy his company even when he was in a dark mood. Not today. For cracks to appear in her tough mental armor, there must be tremendous pressure within. Each day, she gave her all to fight for survival and protect her crew: perhaps at last she had nothing left. She was hurting, and only he seemed to be aware of her pain. She needed him, just as he needed her.

Meditation could only do so much, and the tender methods she'd used to heal him were beyond his abilities. But Garrus knew a thing or two about pain, about the horrors and injustices of life building up until he wanted to scream, to fight, to kill. He made up his mind: he would go to Shepard and release her from her torment, relieve the unbearable tension and return her gift of sweet oblivion.

Damn it. No matter how hard she tried, Shepard couldn't shake the terrifying images burned into her memory. The piles of civilian corpses, colonists whose only crime was to set off for distant worlds in search of a better life. The girl's terrified expression, screaming helplessly as Reaper enzymes digested her alive. Shepard arrived in the nick of time to save her crew, but that thing, that monstrous spawn of Cthulhu was an unshakeable reminder of the countless innocents who died because she failed them. All the hot water in the galaxy couldn't scald her clean, and even the most challenging asanas couldn't begin to quiet her mind and banish her waking nightmares. Sleep was out of the question. She paced around her cabin, kicking at the pillows that lay strewn about from the night before.

The door chimed. "Garrus Vakarian is here to see you," announced EDI.

"Tell him I'm busy. I can't deal with his alpha male bullshit right now. EDI, I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the night, not unless there's an absolute emergency. Is that clear?"

"Yes, commander. I'll inform him of your wishes."

Immediately Shepard regretted snapping at the AI. EDI was only doing her job, after all, and although she wasn't supposed to have feelings Shepard couldn't help but think of her as sentient. It wasn't like the commander to be sharp, but her patience had been stretched thin by the never-ending crises that awaited her upon reawakening. No "Hey, glad you're alive" celebrations, just problem after problem, anger and suffering, guns and death. Everyone needed something from her, even her closest allies, and all she had left was cold hard pain.

A sudden hiss behind her made Shepard whirl around in a combat stance, instinctively bracing for attack. Garrus had hacked the door, a blatant invasion of her personal space. He held his head high, shoulders back: threatening and dominant.

"I know full well you're not busy."

She was too angry to speak, fighting the urge to lash out and throw him out of her quarters. Locking his gaze with a furious stare, she crept slowly and cautiously toward him, keeping a safe distance as she circled her prey. This was still her ship, and there was no way she'd let anyone push her around. Not even him.

"You need to learn some manners, Garrus."

"You need to trust me, Shepard."

"Get out of my quarters."

"You think I can't tell what you're going through? No one knows you better than I do. You're wound tight as a spring, and no amount of asari voodoo is going to make you feel better."

She muttered under her breath: "You don't know a damn thing about what I'm feeling."

Fast as lightning, he lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her back against the wall. "I know what you need, Shepard. Fight me."

"I don't want to spar. Leave. Me. Alone."

"Not spar. Fight." He gnashed his teeth to accentuate his point. "I can take anything you have to give, as long as you spare me your biotic attacks. If you think you can handle me, human."

Shepard's skin grew diamond-hard as she brought up her defensive barrier, eyes narrowing to angry slits. "You've seen me take a plasma missile at close range, Garrus. You couldn't hurt me if you tried." She was rapidly losing control: his plan was working perfectly. Adrenaline screamed through her veins; her body quivered with bloodlust. Volatile as a cracked grenade, all she needed was a catalyst to set her off.

He kneed her sharply in the abdomen: the swift movement caught her off-guard and knocked the wind out of her. Shepard's last thread of self-restraint snapped: the turian wasn't holding back, so why should she? Falling to her knees, she grabbed his leg spur like a handle and yanked him to the ground, raining knife-edged blows on his tough plating. His talons found her throat, scraping harmlessly against her barrier. They leapt to their feet and unleashed a barrage of vicious strikes, both of them too well armored for any significant damage. Tactics were abandoned, rage the only strategy: she was thrown across the room like a ragdoll, rolling to a crouch to attack anew. He bit her arms as she raked her nails down his fringe. His talons clawed frantically at her delicate flesh, his frenzy mounting when they failed to find purchase. What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in sheer size, using his entire weight to slam her to the floor. Pinned by her massive opponent, she kicked and scratched and bit with the ferocity of a caged animal, screaming out her frustration and anger as he held her down and refused to let go.

Garrus felt Shepard explode beneath him, astonished that such raw passion seethed beneath her calm veneer. Satisfied that he'd accomplished his goal, he slowed his breathing to enjoy the sight of his commander unchained. She fought harder than a rabid varren, wild and feral. She was… sexy as hell. Spirits.

Her throat raw and body aching, Shepard had run out of rage to expend. As the crimson blur receded from her mind and the world came back into focus, she became aware of the turian's face hovering inches above hers, watching her with an expression she took to be bemusement. The absurdity of the situation sank in and she began to giggle, her whole body soon shaking with uncontrollable laughter. This too ran its course, and she reached up to gently stroke Garrus' mandible.

"I guess it's my turn to ask this time. What just happened?"

He grinned. "I thought you seemed a little tense. Turians don't meditate, we battle."

"Is it always like this?"

"It's different every time. That was incredible, Shepard."

"Mmm. Thanks. I do feel better."

Still trapped underneath him, she expected Garrus to release her. But he wasn't moving, and she felt a frisson as she became aware of one taloned hand pinning her right shoulder, the other firmly grasping her left hip.

"Can I ask you something, Shepard? Do you… find me attractive?"

Her cheeks flushed red, her pulse quickening. "I don't have a turian fetish, if that's what you're asking." She looked up at him, studying his expression and frantically piecing together an appropriate answer. She knew how he felt about humans, but couldn't bring herself to lie outright, not after all they'd been through. "Your spirit is… intense. Captivating. I'm honored to have you in my life."

Garrus bent down to sniff her, eliciting an embarrassed giggle as his hot breath tickled her neck. She couldn't help it: her body was responding to his strong masculine presence, warmth building between her legs as his grip tightened on her flesh. She squirmed uncomfortably: she had to move away from him before he picked up on her increasingly obvious signals. Bringing his face close to hers, he rubbed his brow plates against her forehead, his purr vibrating into her as she tried desperately not to moan.

"Will you have me, Shepard?"

She averted her gaze. "I don't want any man who doesn't desire me." Pity sex from her best friend would be more humiliating than she could bear.

What? The air was thick with his pheromones: how could she not sense his arousal? Could humans really be this clueless? He laughed, a rumbling guttural bass that resonated through her thorax as he leaned in to bring his body next to hers. Shepard gasped when she felt his erection pressing down against her abdomen, pupils dilating and skin flushing hot.

"I desire you, you infuriating human." He purred into her ear, relishing the bloom of scent he'd triggered. "Will you have me?"

This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen: she'd fantasized about a romantic confession, his warm and loving embrace, a sweet and tentative exploration of one another's bodies. But Garrus was no gallant prince, despite his noble spirit and beautiful soul. He was a fierce predator, a deadly warrior every bit her match. And she sure as hell was no princess waiting to be rescued. His teeth nipped at her jawline, endorphins spiking in her bloodstream in response to the sharp pain. Raw energy uncoiled from the base of her spine, insatiable hunger clouding her mind. Shepard's lips parted in a wicked smile.

"If I were turian… how would I say yes?"

"Show me your throat."

She arched her neck, exposing her vulnerable flesh as he leaned in with teeth bared. When he closed in for the bite, she bucked her hips to break his hold and throw him off. He looked surprised, then very, very pleased as he scrambled to his feet.

"Oh. Was I supposed to be passive?" She feigned innocence, hoping the message wouldn't be lost in translation.

"It's way more fun if you're not."

The circled one another once again, this time with slow, deliberate paces. Shepard had no idea what she was getting herself into, although she'd heard a few rumors about turians over the years. None of that mattered: Garrus wanted her, really wanted her, and she was too far gone with lust to worry about logistics. She brought up her barrier once more: from the look Garrus was giving her and what little she knew of turian mating, this was going to get rough.

She followed his lead: where their earlier fight had been a brawl, this was an elegant ritual, dancing around one another, feinting and parrying, drawing near enough to catch each other's scent before flirtatiously darting away. Gradually the distance between them closed, each trying to throw the other off balance to gain the upper hand. It was alien and exciting all at once, and Shepard's mind raced in fevered speculation of what was to come.

"You're forgetting something, Shepard."

"What's that?"

"I'm stronger than you." He rushed forward, pinning her back against the wall, taking the opportunity to run his hands slowly over her waist, her hips. She cringed as she wondered what he thought of her curves, but his touch was curious and insistent, and his arousal was unmistakable. Attempting to reciprocate, she reached up to unzip his tunic but was thwarted by his talons restraining her wrists.

"You're forgetting something, Garrus. I'm biotic." She froze his arms, grinning as she exposed his thorax, running her nimble fingers along the grooves between his plates, enjoying the delightful noises he made when she teased his sensitive waist.

"Oh… that feels good. I don't know how to touch you. I don't know what you like."

"You, Garrus. Only you," she purred, stroking his fringe and releasing her hold on him. For a moment, she wondered if she'd said too much, but his possessive growl suggested otherwise. She didn't stop him his time when his teeth found her throat, dropping her barrier just enough to give him the pleasure of gaining purchase on her skin. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she returned the bite once he released his, breaking his tough hide with her sharp canines. She had no idea his blood would taste so good, sweet and salty: she had no fetish for violence but couldn't hold back. It was more than he could bear: the primal instincts he'd long suppressed demanded satisfaction. If he didn't fuck her now, he'd die. He carried Shepard over to her bed, moaning as her tongue lapped at his neck, throwing her onto the mattress and preparing to claim her.

Face down, talons tearing the last shreds of clothing from her body, Shepard had never been so aroused in all her life. Fighting gave their foreplay a dangerous edge, but right now all she wanted was to give herself to him, to succumb to desire and fuck him senseless. She arched her back, parting her legs to make her intentions crystal clear. Rough hands grasped her waist, impossibly delicious heat blossoming as his cock grazed her sex.

"Please, Garrus…"

It seemed impossible: she was so tiny and unprotected compared to a turian female, surely he'd tear her apart. Yet she was shockingly wet, and she was begging him. Commander Shepard, the most feared and respected woman in the known universe, his best friend and inspiration and ever so much more, her bite marks fresh on his throat, was begging him to take her. He looked down, drinking in the sensual angles of her shoulder blades, the points of her spine, the jut of her hip bones. She moaned as his talons traced down her back, and his rational mind was forever silenced.

At last she felt him enter her, the pressure far beyond comfort but not quite painful. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced: in order to accommodate him she had to relax every muscle, surrender completely. She was his, utterly his. He nipped gently at her shoulder, giving her time to adjust to his presence within her before instinct took over the pace of his thrusts. Garrus' first climax was swift and powerful; he barely broke stride as waves of pleasure crashed through him. At once Shepard was relieved: knowing she could satisfy him sexually made her immeasurably happy. She desired him, she pleased him, she loved him… and it was too much, far too much for her to contain, exploding with pure joy as she reached her own climax, crying out shamelessly in ecstasy.

Spirits… he'd never imagined it could be like this. He thrust into her, her skin glistening with rubies where he'd marked her, her act of unquestioning submission satisfying his deep craving for dominance. Yet she wasn't passive: her body yielded to him even as she gripped him tighter than he thought possible, beckoning him with passionate cries and eroding his self-control. He wanted to give her everything she needed, wanted to be everything she needed. Her song of pleasure reached crescendo, her spasms surprising him and triggering another forceful orgasm when he realized what he'd done. In the wake of his bliss, long-dormant channels stirred within him: an earthquake building in his loins and demanding release. His body was preparing to spill its seed, not just to fuck her but to mate with her, but that meant… oh… how could he have been so blind?

Shepard decided she must have lied: she knew now that she unequivocally had a turian fetish, that no other man could ever give her such pleasure. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, his iron grip on her waist softened, his relentless ravaging ceased, and he lay beside her on the mattress, pulling her in to nestle against him. He panted furiously, not the contented sigh of a post-coital haze, but the ragged gasp of a drowning man.

"Garrus… are you okay? Are you having a reaction?"

He laughed, full-throated and open. "Yes, I think I am." Before she could worry, he squeezed her iliac crest and nipped playfully at her cheek. He'd managed to stop himself in time, to prevent the act that would seal their bond and reveal his true emotions. Mind reeling, his body still ached for more.

"You're incredible, Shepard. Absolutely incredible."

"I don't even have words for you, Garrus."

"I never thought I'd say this, but is there any way we can keep going, but slow things down?"

She twisted around to face him, running her hands beneath his fringe. "We can do anything you want, my avenging angel. I'm very versatile, you know."

"Make love to me, Shepard."

She hesitated for a moment: did he really mean 'make love'? Or was it a euphemism for what they'd just been doing? Garrus reached up, gently brushed aside a wayward strand of her hair, and nodded slowly.

She guided him to a seated position, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed. Straddling him, knees on either side of his prominent hips, she sweetly kissed his brow, his nasal ridge, his mouth and mandibles, stroked his scars and nuzzled the wound on his throat. Her breath came naturally in sync with his, energy flowing between them effortlessly this time. Tingling and euphoria came quickly, but she remained firmly grounded in herself as she took in his musky scent, the heat and textures of his plates and skin, the way the light gleamed off his fringe and shone in his ice-blue eyes. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, her gaze locked on his, a moan escaping her throat as he once again took his rightful place inside her. She rocked back and forth, back and forth with movements at first painstakingly small, energy building and building until together they burned so brightly that the fire engulfed them both, setting them aglow in cerulean flames. Her hips were not so restrained now, her sweet grind blossoming into long delicious thrusts.

His eyes spoke of need, his breath of words unsaid. She could feel tension within him, not dark and painful like before, but no less intense. There was only one thing it could mean: he must be ashamed of his desire for her, unforgivable for his kind.

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I only wanted to be with you… I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

"No, my heart, my beautiful valkyrie." His hands were on her hips, guiding her pace and encouraging her not to stop. The insatiable urge was building again: his blood turned to molten lava, his body ached for release, his mind was clear but for one pure thought. He leaned in to touch his brow plates to her forehead, lingering for a moment before speaking again. "You don't understand, you don't know how foolish I've been…"

"I don't care. I want you. I…"

"I love you, Shepard."

What happened next became a blur: to this day she distinctly remembers the feeling of a great barrier giving way, of her heart opening in utter release, finally allowing her to speak the words she'd held back for so long. There was no pain, but the deep bites on her neck and collarbones would take days to heal. There was heat, searing pulsating heat, filling her with warmth and contentment. And there was bliss, indescribable pleasure and pure joy, love and sex and happiness all at once. It was the first of countless nights together, the dawn of a new chapter in their long and arduous journey. Garrus had found his mate, and as for Shepard, suffice it to say the commander had finally met her match.

First yin, then yang, and finally balance. Hope you enjoyed it… I'm off to take a nice cold shower, and try to find some less sexy muses (epic T-rated story fail).

On a completely separate note: I read today that Bioware reported 80% of Commander Shepards are male. Sigh. So to all the FemSheps (of any gender) and female gamers out there: you are awesome :D

Love and bliss to everyone!