A/N: This is a little holiday cheer for my friend, the lovely and witty, Zute. It was meant to be some sort of PWP one shot, but now it will be more than one chapter since I've wanted to explore this relationship for a while now. (Sorry Zute, you'll have to wait a little while for the porn) The Illusive Man may have said he wasn't looking for a dance partner when he brought Shepard back from the dead, but I didn't quite believe him. This starts during ME2 shortly before the final mission.

Hugs and kisses to my buddy Biff McLaughlin for beta reading this for me. She also has a wonderful Mass Effect story, This is What Matters, which spans all three games. Oh, and F!Shepard/Vega fic too!

More than Time and Money

"Not one word, Joker, or I'll have your balls in a vice before you can whistle Dixie."

"Ouch." Joker looked away when he saw her fists clench. But he was Shepard's friend —probably the best friend she'd ever had—and he'd always been there to lean on, knowing how to carry the weight she unconsciously put on him. "Okay, Commander, I won't mention the Illusive Prick's sudden appearance on the Normandy at this hour. At least not until the Collector mission is over."

"I'm serious, Joker." She stepped forward, staring, her eyes moving as if trying to gauge his concern. "He has some intel we need to discuss in person. Please don't give me any grief tonight."

"Fine." Joker realized, maybe for the first time since meeting her, something other than the mission had her on edge. He figured they were sleeping together, but now he wondered if Shepard had grown too close to the Illusive Man. Shit, she better not have fallen for that asshole. "Shepard," he said, then decided on a more personal approach. "Becca, you know his motivations. Just… be careful."

"Noted." She nodded once, forcing a smile she hoped looked at least half sincere.

Taking quick steps away from the cockpit, she moved closer to the Combat Information Center. Kelly Chambers' back was to her as she huddled over a terminal.

"Chambers," Shepard said abruptly. "The Illusive Man is coming aboard for an urgent meeting before we head to the Omega Four relay. Hustle him up to my quarters the second his feet hit the deck."

"Yes, Commander. Do you need anything special sent up?" she chirped. Her serious expression gave her away; she was analyzing Shepard, noting her body language and tone. "Drinks? Snacks?"

"We're not having a tea party, Chambers." Shepard glared at her, resisting the urge to yell. Her dislike for Kelly was on display, but she dialed her annoyance back a notch, if only to keep suspicions at bay as excitement rose in her, the addiction to the Illusive Man tugging at her. Shepard had to hide her attraction to him, her need for his presence, fearing most of the crew would lose respect for her if they knew the truth. Weeks had gone by without seeing him in person, and she'd spoken to him only a few times in the comm room via hologram, alone only two of those times. The separation was eating away at her.

"Just don't give anyone a chance to question him if they're lurking around or suffering from insomnia tonight. Not even Miranda." Kelly's false smile fell and she paled a bit. "And," Shepard added, pointing a finger, "if you can't handle my orders, then find someone who can."

"Will do, Commander. I mean I can handle it!"

"Good."

A brief but loud rumbling indicated the outer airlock had been opened. Watching intently for the Illusive Man, Shepard heard the unmistakable clicking of his shoes echoing above the low hum of the Normandy as he came aboard. When she caught sight of him, her impulse was to rush up and throw her arms around him. Of course she didn't dare. Her loyalties were torn, equal parts guilt and desire rising and constricting her breathing as he moved toward her with purpose. She turned on her heels and headed away. The doors to the elevator slid shut before he could reach her. On the ride up, she laughed to herself, knowing Chambers would keep him occupied with some inane chatter just long enough for her to primp.

Once inside her quarters, Shepard gazed at herself in the mirror, noting the flush spreading from her neck to her ears. She cursed under her breath. Damn him for having an effect on me. After smoothing the wrinkles from her officer's dress, she let her hair down, allowing the golden-brown locks to flow over her shoulders. The Illusive Man loved to touch her hair, loved to wind strands around his fingers before pulling her closer. Another glance in the mirror had her second guessing her clothes. Maybe she should have worn something more daring, a revealing dress or lingerie perhaps. No, best to make sure she didn't look like most of the women in his employ. She was the Commander of the Normandy with all the title entailed and she would damn well make that plain.

She stood near the door waiting for his knock, cracking her knuckles and chewing her lip. A rap sounded within a minute, but she hesitated, imagining the breath he was blowing out impatiently. She tapped the control panel, and he greeted her with a slight nod. Her eyes widened to stare at him as his gaze roamed up and down her body, her stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. He was relaxed and composed wearing a sly smile to go with his smug expression. When he stepped closer, she smelled a hint of cologne, the Bay Rum she was very fond of. So handsome in his plum-colored suit and perfectly coifed hair, she found herself unable to speak, tongue-tied like a schoolgirl.

"I've never seen you at a loss for words before, Shepard."

She cleared her throat. "I know you like to be the first to speak, to give me that critical piece of information I must hear this very second."

"Hm. Mocking aside, that's unusually considerate of you." He stepped closer, taking in her mischievous air as he reached out to brush her hair back. "I see you're in a mood tonight. But you could have worn something more… thought provoking."

"Isn't this just a business meeting?"

His brows rose. "Make me an offer and I may change the agenda."

"Maybe later." She went down the stairs grinning and motioned for him to sit on the couch. "Tell me what's so important that you had to see me in person?"

"Something vital to the mission."

"I got that. So what is it? Some new intel about the base or the relay or what?"

"There is no new information. I wanted to see you in person because this mission is the most dangerous to date. I've procured a new operative if you need another skilled assassin."

"No thanks. But you can come along for the chase. I know you secretly want to." She leaned in to him, anticipating a passionate kiss, aching for it, but he brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek instead.

"My presence would be a distraction and we can't afford the risk."

"Chicken."

He tilted her head up and stared longer than usual. "The holos don't allow me to search your eyes as I can in person."

"I haven't lied about anything, Jack. We're ready. No question." She laid her hand on his chest, felt the warm hardness beneath the fine linen, and smoothed her way downward. "So let's cut to the chase. Admit you only came here for the sex."

His eyes darkened, simmering with offense. "You have so little faith in me, Shepard."

"You've done nothing to make me feel otherwise."

"Haven't I?" He took her hand, and his grip was so warm and firm something moved deep inside her. "The exotic meals on Illium complete with strolling minstrels didn't impress you?"

"I would have been impressed if you'd known how much I love to dance to their music." Silence. The gears in his head were turning, no recollection of her love for dance coming to his mind. This amused her more than anything had in recent months. "Don't beat yourself up, Jack. It's a love I developed later in life, and no one knows about it."

"A point to you," he said, tipping his head in acknowledgment. "But I won't make that mistake twice." A flicker of a smile softened his expression, his brows narrowing in thought. "Be careful on the Collectors' base, Rebecca. Having to care for an invalid would complicate my future endeavors." He tensed for the briefest moment at his candid wording.

Another point for me, she thought. "Is that your way of saying you care for me?" Her voice was light, but her dark green eyes were intense, focused solely on his, not allowing him to look away.

Clearly her nearness was putting him off his game and intoxicating his reason. Of course she'd chosen to attach feelings to something he wanted to see as purely physical. Why wouldn't she? He'd practically proposed marriage with that comment. "That's my way of protecting an investment. In any case, I can't afford to bring you back from the dead a second time."

Backpedal all you want. There was no point in pushing him though. He liked to have all his ducks in a row before diving headlong into anything. "Did I ever thank you for saving me?"

"As a matter of fact, no, you didn't."

"My gratitude runs very deep, Jack." She reached for a bottle of bourbon she'd procured recently, and for a hefty fee. "Really, it does."

"Be careful where you tread, Rebecca." He grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked her head to the side, exposing her neck. The bottle in her hand landed back on the table with a thump.

She moaned softly, then held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her there, to stroke the sensitive column of her neck with his tongue, but the sensation never came. His arms tightened around her though, and he crushed his lips to hers, the fire in his kiss half stealing her breath away.

"I may need convincing of your gratitude," he whispered. "Think you're up for the task?"

"Of course," she said, tugging on his lapels to pull him closer. "Now how about that drink?" Before I tackle you to the floor and rip your clothes off. Composing herself, she poured identical amounts into the two glasses; three fingers, neat.

"Impressive. Jim Beam Black is hard to come by these days. Not to mention prohibitively priced." He took a sip, then reached into a breast pocket and pulled out a silver case. The cigarette slipped out and was lit before she could raise an objection. "I hope you don't mind," he said as a cloud of smoke obscured his face momentarily.

"I'll allow you one tonight. Maybe another if you're nice to me."

He gave a short laugh and took two more puffs, following the curls of smoke until they reached the ceiling and dispersed. "I assume you've spent the rest of the money I've given you more wisely."

"Did I say I bought the bourbon?"

"Ah." He took another long drag before stubbing out the cigarette. "Frugality is the quickest route to riches. Or so I've heard."

He caught her shoulder when she was within reach and spun her into his arms for a thorough kiss, not a gentle, tender brush on her lips but a bold possessive claiming that involved teeth and tongues. This was the Jack Harper she couldn't resist, the passionate and fiery lover, his smoky, bourbon flavored kiss sending frissons of desire through her body.

"You seem to be in a mood as well," she said. "And I did buy the bourbon with your money. But I'll pay you back."

"Yes, you will pay me back." He unfastened the first two buttons of her shirt and gently caressed her skin. Beneath his fingers, she drew a sharp breath but remained silent. "All night long, in fact. But business first, Shepard. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

She sighed miserably. "You enjoy teasing me a little too much."

"I do," he agreed quietly, "but I also enjoy pleasing you. Your patience will be well rewarded, don't worry. By the time I'm done with you, you'll have handed your body and soul over to me."

The deep tone of his voice held temptation, dare, and shameless command. It thrilled her, but self-preservation was essential for survival in any situation. She sat up straight and pushed his roaming hands away. "All right. Let's get this damn conversation over with."

They sat together, thigh touching thigh, just as they had so many other times, talking of trivialities as well as recent triumphs, sipping their drinks in easy conversation. Every now and then he touched her, his hand brushing her arm or legs, making intimate contact, and the feelings she'd thought were under control would bubble to the surface. Fear, lust, anxiety, and affection all mingled together with the power of a supernova, like a cleansing fire, healing yet all-consuming.

She was drawn to him just as he was to her, but illusive was a trait for everyone else. Elusive was what he was to her, having no doubt he would change the game play eventually, mix it up enough so she couldn't get a handle on where she really stood with him. He would encourage her feelings with tender touches or aggressive passion, and then crush them with an offhanded or callous remark. There was only one conclusion to draw: their association, while satisfying on many levels, would not end well when all was said and done. Damn the consequences. I want to enjoy this while I'm alive and able.

"Now that we're done patting ourselves on the back," she said, twisting her fingers in his hair, urging him closer, "how about we move on to something more… rigorous."