Author's Note: This story was written for (aka when my imagination became demonically possessed by) a prompt on the Mass Effect kink meme. As a result, it's a little racier than my usual Mass Effect fare.

The scenario is an Alternate Universe where the First Contact War never ended, and Commander Shepard meets Garrus Vakarian—as enemies.

The sexual language and detail are akin to what you'd find in a Silhouette Nocturne paranormal romance novel, and since those are sold on the public shelves at Wal-Mart (and not in erotic bookstores) I feel that their level of sexuality is appropriate for the M rating here. Also, there's a good deal of cussing. Hey, they're at war.

This story is part one of a trilogy (the second and third parts being "Allies Like You and Me" and "Partners Like You And Me.") It's set in an alternate universe and has nothing to do with either my regular storyline ("Where Angels Fear To Tread"/ "Closer to Home") or the renegade!Garrus in "Man of Dust."

I couldn't find a place to work it into the story, but neither of them are wearing armoured hardsuits. Being at war for so long has eaten up resources, and money has been spent on weapons instead of armour, so their clothing is more like modern arctic survival gear than the typical Mass Effect armour.

Obscure Themesong: "Enemies Like You And Me" sung by Ruth Pointer and Billy Vera, off the "Iron Eagle 2" soundtrack. You can find it in youtube if you enter the title in quotation marks.

#

Enemies Like You and Me

Major Jane Shepard felt the ground shudder beneath her feet, knocking her off her stride as she ran from the crumbling compound of buildings that had at one time been Humanity's base on Oya. She had a pistol in one hand, and a duffel bag filled with supplies in the other. The base had been a hell hole—ramshackle and small and the only civilization anywhere on this wintry planet that, as far as Shepard was concerned, proved that hell was cold instead of hot.

To be honest, the base hadn't always been Humanity's. The turians had built it long before, ostensibly to keep an eye on batarian raiders in this system, but it had been abandoned and rotting when the Alliance had found it. It had been a great staging ground for operations against the turians on the world that the humans called Chango and the turians called Caligo.

It wasn't long after the Alliance had started operating out of the base before the turians remembered they'd once had an outpost here, and come back to claim it as their own. The base had changed hands several times since then, because unfortunately, the batarian raiders who were the reason for the base's existence were still around. Whoever controlled the base invited attacks from the raiders, and it often became too much for either side to fend off both the batarians and their opponents in the war.

Shepard had heard rumours that humanity had been ready to wash their hands of this place—the benefits weren't really worth the losses they took defending it—save for the fact that if the turians had it, they'd be in a prime position to strike at the human colony on Obatallah. And so humanity had struggled to hold onto Oya for no better reason than to deny it to the turians.

Now, it seemed that nature had intervened. Earthquakes were ravaging the area, tsunamis were throwing icebergs about like bath toys, and the Alliance scientists were ninety percent certain the base was about to sink into the sea, forever denying it to both sides. Just as well, perhaps.

Assuming Shepard got out of there before it went down.

Her squad were the rear guard, the last group of humans to be evacuated. Everything had been going smoothly until the fucking batarians had shown up. Bastards. The raiders were crazy and desperate, coming in here to loot even as the ground shook beneath them and the walls came tumbling down. There had been fifty of them and only six humans; Shepard had been on patrol on the other side of the base when the batarians had hit. Now Shepard was the only survivor, and between the earthquake, the batarians, and the blizzard coming up from the south, she might not keep survivor status for long.

She needed to find a vehicle and get the hell out of here before the bridge to the mainland collapsed. There was another landing zone several hours' drive north, which would hopefully be batarian-free. She could hole up there and wait for the blizzard to lift and an evacuation vessel to get her off this stinking hellhole of a planet.

Shepard rounded the corner, only to find that one of the previous earthquakes had caused the roof of the garage to cave in. Shit, shit, shit. Surely something had been parked outside…

…There. A truck? Shit, it was a turian vehicle. And lying next to it were three dead turians.

Shepard had to smirk. It looked like the turians had sent a recon party to investigate the human evacuation. It also looked like the batarians were good for something after all. Fucking turians, they weren't going to be getting this base back. The earthquake would drop the whole thing into the sea—just as soon as she got out of here.

The turian vehicle was strange-looking, with huge oversized tires and heavy armour, but a truck was a truck, and she didn't even have to hotwire it…the ignition pass was still in its reader. Shepard started the vehicle and carefully examined the controls. What was wrong with turians' brains, that you pulled back on the throttle to go faster?

The counterintuitive controls meant that the vehicle lurched to a rough, but satisfactory, start. Nursing the throttle, Shepard pointed the truck towards the bridge.

The fucking batarians had beaten her to it. They'd set up a machine-gun nest, covering the bridge to kill anyone attempting to flee. Shepard braked to a stop, just out of the gunner's range. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Her pistol wouldn't hit the gunner from this distance, and she'd be a sitting target if she pulled out onto the bridge.

Unexpectedly, the batarian gunner's head exploded in a shower of red mist. A loud rifle crack echoed moments later.

In the same instant, a single heavy thunk sounded on the passenger side of the truck. A gust of cold air slapped her as the door swung open, a figure tossed itself inside, and the door slammed shut. She couldn't tell if her rescuer was a man or a woman under the heavy winter gear, but the sniper rifle clutched in the figure's hands made it clear who was responsible for the batarian's death.

"Go! Go! Go!" the soldier said, in a voice that sounded male. He cranked down the side mirror, letting an icy breeze into the truck's cab as he leaned out the window with his rifle and took aim at something behind them. Snap. Snap. The rifle reports echoed. "Scoped and dropped!"

Shepard didn't need to be told twice. She threw the truck into gear and slammed on the gas. The vehicle lurched forward and wallowed for a moment in a snowbank; then its wheels caught and it took off down the road. Shepard pulled the throttle back as much as she dared given the slippery road conditions—Oya's roads were permanently icy and it was about to get worse. The sky was ominously dark, and a few flakes were already beginning to fall.

It would take them about two hours to get to the LZ, longer if the roads deteriorated. Shepard wondered if that would take them far enough away from the batarians. She only hoped the raiders were more interested in pillaging the base before the earthquakes got worse than they were in pursuing two soldiers.

And now, as she drove, she had time to think about the crew members she'd lost. She felt sick. This was all that was left of her team?

At least someone had survived. Shepard glanced at the sniper, who was hanging out the window looking back now, covering their retreat with his weapon. She didn't recognize his voice. Perhaps he was from another unit, though she'd thought her team members were the only humans left on Oya. This was hardly the time to distract him with personal questions…

…but he was retreating back into the cab now. Apparently there were no more batarians back there for him to shoot. That was a comforting thought.

"Have you heard from Quatra and Taerax?" the sniper asked, and what the hell was that flange in his voice?

Shepard realized that the words were running through the translation device on her omni-tool at exactly the same time that he turned to look at her. She caught a glimpse of blue facepaint, a heads-up display on his left eye, and his right eye, an impossible shade of blue. She wasn't well versed in turian expressions, other than the look of vague puzzlement they tended to have when they died, but right now she was willing to bet that the look on his face meant oh fuck and it probably matched her own expression right about now.

The turian's eyes narrowed. His fist lashed out at practically the same time.

He was fast, but so was Shepard. She'd already started moving, both sideways and towards him, as she drew the combat knife from her belt. His fist caught a glancing blow on her jaw, made worse by the fact that she was moving forward into the punch, and it was going to bruise.

But her blade sank into his chest.

The tip of it skidded on something hard. Shepard had her full weight leaning into the strike and then the knife bit in deeper, hitting home.

The turian gasped. He kicked backwards, trying to get away from her. His door must not have been latched properly, because it swung open under his weight, and he fell out, taking her knife with him.

Goodbye, turian asshole.

Shepard turned her attention to the road, narrowly stopping the truck from winding up in a ditch. She spun the wheel, getting the vehicle back on the road, which hopefully didn't have any more machine gun nests along it…

Shit.

The batarians had landed somewhere. They might have used the same LZ that she was evacuating towards right now.

Shepard slammed on the brakes.

Leaving the truck idling, she drew her pistol and headed off through the snow.

The turian was lying in a snowbank, pumping medi-gel into the wound left by her knife. When she approached, he growled at her; his right hand held her knife while his left was pressed over his wound. He seemed to have no other weapons but her knife and the sniper rifle.

"I've got a deal for you," she snapped.

The turian regarded her as if to say he was listening.

"I can't drive and shoot at the same time. And your ass is going to freeze to death here. So if I help you back up into the truck, will you shoot batarians, and not me?"

"Where are we going?" he growled, sounding surly, but he had said we and not you. Shepard took that as a good sign.

"LZ two hours up the road."

He nodded, then looked back over his shoulder. "I can't leave without my team."

"Three of them?"

Another nod. A suspicious look.

"They're dead. It wasn't me," Shepard added quickly. "I found them dead next to the truck. Our vehicles were fucked. I needed a ride."

His mandibles went slack. He forced a growl, but it sounded halfhearted.

Shepard didn't want to know if the slack-mandible expression meant grief.

"My team's dead too," she said awkwardly. "Look, all that's left is you and me. I don't want the batarians to get us too."

Me. I don't want the batarians to get me too, Shepard corrected in her head. I could care less about him.

"Deal," the turian said grudgingly.

"Let me take a look at that."

He snarled warningly, but as she put her hands on the wound, he relaxed and submitted to her examination.

The bulky padding of his parka had taken most of the blow. The knife blade had hit one of his plates, skidded across the hide in a shallow furrow, and then sunk home in an area that Shepard figured was analogous to the muscle between a human's ribs. His skin was strange—soft, like suede, and very warm, surprisingly pleasant to touch. She'd expected him to be cold, like metal, or maybe slimy like a lizard.

"I think you'll make it," Shepard said with a snort as she bandaged the wound using supplies from his personal first aid kit. Honestly, she didn't know if she'd hit any organs or not. She could only hope that the wound was minor enough not to interfere with his shooting and serious enough to stop him from trying to mess with her.

"Let's get going," the turian said, pulling away from her, doing up his parka again.

Shepard tried to help him up into the cab.

"I don't need a human's help," he growled.

"Shut up and climb." She shoved on his bony ass, boosting him up into the tall vehicle. Then she hurried around the front and into the driver's seat before he could get any ideas about driving off without her.

He'd settled himself into the passenger's seat, looking angry and withdrawn. She put the truck into gear and set off down the road while he scanned the landscape, looking for batarians. The ground rumbled ominously beneath them.

"This planet is a shithole," she muttered.

"Tell me about it."

#

"Never saw me coming!" the turian exclaimed as they drove past his handiwork—three batarians sporting large perforations in their vital organs.

"Cocky bastard, aren't you?" Shepard muttered, but she had to admit, the turian was good.

The LZ was a…well, in the couple months when Oya thawed, it was a meadow. Most of the year, like now, it was a snow-covered field ringed by hardy evergreen trees.

"Over there," he said, gesturing to a gap in the treeline.

"The road stops here," Shepard protested. "How are we supposed to get the truck over there and why would we want to?"

"Underground hangar," the turian replied smugly.

"What?"

"You never found it?" he asked mockingly. His mandibles flared in what was definitely an obnoxious grin. "There's a hangar down there with heat, communications, food….well…food for me anyway."

"I've got food in my pack, wise ass."

"Then drive as close as you can. We'll walk the rest of the way."

#

"Is this what turians call heat?" Shepard asked sardonically. She'd stripped off her soaking wet parka, snow pants, and boots, but the clothes she wore underneath weren't much dryer. The base was darker than the pits of hell save for the light of their flashlights. She shivered, clutching her free arm around her middle, and glared at the turian's legs in the arc of her flashlight beam.

"I'm working on it," he growled. The upper half of him was hidden underneath the control panel he was currently working on. "Instead of standing here making sarcastic comments, why don't you start a fire so we can warm up some food?"

"Don't you people have stoves?"

"Do you want power for food, or power for heat? Two of the generators are busted and I don't think I can fix them tonight."

Shepard considered telling him that she wasn't a cook and to go fuck himself, but thought better of it. The walk in had been long and hard; the truck hadn't gotten far before the snow had bogged it down. She'd had to carry her heavy pack full of supplies, but he'd been hampered by the injury she'd given him. They were both tired, hungry, soaked to the skin, grieving their teammates, and generally miserable, and the company didn't help.

So she gathered up combustible materials and started a small fire in the middle of the floor. After cooking and eating her own meal, she'd asked the turian what he needed to cook his. Funny. His food pouches were warmed up in boiling water, just like hers.

While he ate, he told her that he'd gotten the heater working, but that it would take a long time for it to heat a space as big as the hangar.

"Great. So that means we'll be warm tomorrow, if we don't die of hypothermia tonight."

"Pretty much." He flared his mandibles in a grin.

"Wonderful." She eyed him. "How long is our truce in effect?"

"Two options," he replied. "Right now, we're currently in danger of freezing to death and/or being discovered by the batarians, but I suppose that doesn't have to stop us from trying to kill each other. Or, we could wait till tomorrow when the base is warm, and I could switch the power over to the comm arrays. You could comm your people, I could comm mine, and then we sit and wait to see whose rescue ship shows up first."

"So if my guys get here first, you're my prisoner, and if your guys get here first, I'm your prisoner?"

"It would only be fair."

Shepard thought for a moment. The turian was a lot better with repairs than she was. She wasn't sure she could get the comm arrays working herself. She probably shouldn't kill him in his sleep. If she had to, she could always kill him later.

"Deal."

"Done. Now we should probably try to get some sleep."

Shepard frowned. Her clothes were damp and she was only going to get colder once the fire died down and she stopped moving around.

The turian, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit bothered at the prospect. He vanished into a storage room and returned a moment later with a roll of foam under one arm and something that looked like a large rolled blanket in the other. He laid out the foam, near the fire for warmth, far enough away to be safe from sparks. The blanket was unrolled on top of it.

He straightened up, examined his handiwork, nodded with satisfaction. Then he turned to her.

"Strip."

Shepard was sure she'd heard him wrong. "What?"

He was shrugging out of his own clothing even as he spoke to her. "If you want to sleep in wet clothes, that's your business, but I'm not letting you into my sleeping bag when you're damp all over. That bag is dry and I plan to keep it that way. And when you get hypothermia and die, don't come crying to me."

Shepard closed her mouth, which had been hanging open. The turian had some good points—it was imperative that they stay dry and warm, and moisture in the sleeping bag would be very difficult to get out again. "You're letting me into your sleeping bag."

"I don't want hypothermia. Two are warmer than one."

At least he didn't make any rude innuendos about body heat, Shepard thought as she took off her clothing.

She tried not to watch him strip, but she did catch a glimpse of him climbing into the sleeping bag. He'd taken everything off. Shepard drew the line at her underwear and bra.

She walked over and caught the edge of the bag, but the turian growled and ripped it out of her hands. "Take it all off."

Shepard was freezing and covered in goosebumps. "Let me in!"

"Those clothes are damp."

"I'm not taking off my…"

He sat up in bed, lighting fast, and slid one of his talons under the front of her bra. His claws were razor-sharp and sliced through the band as though it were made of butter. Her bra flew apart, leaving Shepard shocked and indignant. The fucking turian couldn't even be bothered to look at her newly-freed tits. She stepped back as he took a swipe at her panties. "Fuck off!"

"Fine, get hypothermia," he snarled as he rolled over, turning his back to her.

"Asshole," Shepard hissed as she stepped out of her panties and reached for the sleeping bag again. She felt horribly vulnerable, but she was so damn cold she'd stopped shivering—a bad sign. She was tired, and wanted to sleep. Another bad sign.

But there was no way she was going to fall asleep next to a turian. He had his uses, she thought as she crept into the sleeping bag and zipped it behind her.

Holy God, was he warm.

She pressed her body against him, trying to absorb every bit of heat she could from him. She really didn't like that he was as naked as she was. She'd heard of humans—both male and female—who'd died after getting raped by turians. It all depended on how allergic they were to turian dextro-amino acids. Granted, to be fair, she also knew human soldiers who'd done the same thing to turians. There was one on her ship—Chikari, his name was—who got off on it. Chikari was a miserable excuse for a human being, but damned if he wasn't good at killing turians, so the Alliance looked the other way.

He interrupted her train of thought. "You'd better hope I'm not allergic to you," he growled.

"You want to die, go ahead," she shot back. She felt naked and vulnerable and bitchy.

"Then how would you stay warm? By the Spirits, you are frigid."

"Go find another sleeping bag, then."

He huffed. "My reaction to you might be fatal. Hypothermia would definitely be fatal. We're both too fucking cold to warm up a bag by ourselves…" He rolled over, growling softly. "I don't trust you at my back," he hissed.

"Good. I don't want a face full of spikes," she shot back.

"It's called a fringe," he retorted.

She didn't care what it was called. It felt like he was spiky all over. His chest plates were rough and abrasive, rubbing against her breasts, causing her nipples to harden into nubbly little peaks. There was another plate or something jabbing her in the thigh. She shifted her hips, seeking a more comfortable position.

There.

Shepard sighed, wriggled herself a little closer, and realized with a sudden jolt that some part of the turian's anatomy was rubbing against her bud in a way that felt much better than it ought to.

Well, to hell with it. What did she care if he didn't like the idea of her getting a little pleasure off him? If he even knew what she was doing. She rubbed against him a little more. Damn, that felt good. She could feel his hips cradled against hers, and…

…wait…

"Roll the hell over," she demanded, her voice shaky.

"I thought you didn't want a faceful of spikes."

"I also don't want a fucking allergic reaction."

He raised an eye ridge sardonically. "And what makes you think…."

"Listen asshole, if that's your cock, I know damn well what can happen if you decide you're going to fuck me in my sleep." She hadn't survived the batarians and the earthquakes only to die of anaphylactic shock.

"I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last…" He broke off. "Wait…that isn't…is that your…"

"It damn well is, asshole."

"Shit," he growled as he pulled as far away from her as the sleeping bag would allow.

"Yeah, shit," she retorted. "Now roll over."

"You stabbed me on that side."

"Too bad." Damn it, her clit ached now. Her body wanted more.

"I should have gotten laid before this mission," he muttered. "Then we wouldn't be having this problem."

She snorted. "You do that? Fraternize with your fellow soldiers?"

"Sex relieves tension. Our military understands that." She could hear the sneer in his voice. "I've heard about you humans. How you can fight with a crew of celibate soldiers is beyond my imagining."

"We're not always good with that rule." Shepard had had a few good times with a biotic soldier named Kaiden Alenko until he'd gotten killed in a fight with a turian commando called Nihlus. To Alenko's credit, he'd taken the turian down with him, but that had been little comfort to Shepard in the lonely nights that followed.

"Hypocrites."

"You still want to fuck me."

He made a guttural snarl and didn't deny it. His next words were terse, clipped. "Would it help if I got a condom?"

"You have one?" she asked, shocked.

"We're turians. We're allowed to screw our fellow crewmates all we please, as long as we don't get anyone pregnant or spread diseases." She heard him chuckle in the dark. "One of my squadmates in basic knocked up our base commander. Not pretty."

"What did they do to him?"

"Him? Nothing. She got a dishonourable discharge and knocked back to third tier social rank."

"Seems unfair."

"Why? He could hardly refuse a superior officer. She ought to have known better." Now his voice sounded like a leer. "It's not as though our military doesn't provide plenty of condoms. Even in an outpost hangar like this one."

This was wrong. This was sick. She ought to say no. She ought to tell him to go to hell.

She ought to just shoot him.

But what were the alternatives? Getting hypothermia? Risking anaphylactic shock? She sat there, her brain spinning, shivering as the turian slipped out of the sleeping bag and sprinted across the room with one of the flashlights.

He was cold when he got back, and she shuddered from his icy touch. She gritted her teeth and pressed herself against him, hoping he'd warm up soon.

And he did. Oh, he did, and soon she found herself running her hands over his shoulder blades, exploring his carapace, acquainting herself with his body. He was wiry but strong, and reminded her of an ex-lover who'd been a long distance runner. He'd had a body like this, spare and lean…

"This isn't right," she whispered as she felt her body reacting to his proximity. She wasn't sure if she was protesting to him or to herself as she spread her thighs and rested her knee on his hip. She felt him hard and firm against her clit and felt betrayed by the wave of pleasure that rolled through her body.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will personally hunt you down and put a bullet in your head," he growled as he wove his talons through her hair.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll stab you in the heart next time."

He chuckled, nipping at her shoulder with those sharp, sharp teeth.

"Stop that," she snapped. "It makes it harder for me to pretend you're human."

She found a nice place for her knee—right in the hollow of his waist. He groaned, a sound that suggested he liked that a lot. "You're too soft to be a convincing turian."

"And you still want to screw me."

"I'm desperate."

She wasn't sure if that comment was meant to insult her or if he were really making a confession. On the other hand…wasn't she more than a little desperate herself?

"We just survived the batarians," she murmured, moving against him, "and the earthquake, and the blizzard. And we might freeze to death before our people come…or starve to death…or something…." She arched her back, driving her hips against his, so close that she could feel the tip of him slide down from her clit, nestle against her opening. "Haven't we earned a break?"

His next words came out in a rush, so quickly she could barely decipher them. "Will you accept me as your mate?" It sounded like some kind of turian thing, some ritual he'd ask of a female of his own kind.

"What?" she said, taunting him.

"Shut up and say yes."

"Why should I?" she asked belligerently.

"Because if you don't, it makes me a rapist and a dishonourable piece of filth."

"Maybe you are."

"I hate you," he hissed.

"I hate you too," she retorted, and put her cheek against his. "Yes."

He wrapped his talons around her ass and pulled her against him. She felt him enter her in a quick, darting movement completely unlike anything she'd felt from a human. Funny, she'd expected it to hurt; now she found herself disappointed. His cock was thin, barely filling her at all.

On the other hand, now that she was right up hard against him, she discovered he had a very nice little ridge at the base of his cock, some kind of armour or something, and it was in the perfect position to rub her clit as she moved back and forth against him. The fucking might be a letdown but she could definitely get off from the manual stimulation, and surely that was good enough…

Then she felt something that had her tensing and grabbing his shoulders for support. Was it her imagination or…

No, he was definitely getting larger, expanding inside her. She could feel him moving in and out of her, and with each thrust his shaft was slightly wider. "What's happening?" she whispered, clutching at him, at the same time frightened and aroused.

"I'm filling you," he murmured in her ear, and then he thrust deep into her and groaned. "Spirits…"

She barely heard him, his epithet drowned out by her squeal. That deep thrust had hit the spot in more ways than one. "Like that," she told him, "do it like that…"

He did. Oh, God, he was good and big now, a perfect fit, stroking her deep inside with rhythmic thrusts. She reached down and grabbed his bony ass—there was actually some nice curve there, she discovered—and urged him against her in time with the beat of her hips. The next thing she knew, she was moaning loudly. How could she help it, when he was thundering against her G-spot with such power and precision?

He chuckled. "You like that."

"Shut up and fuck me."

The turian surged against her. She felt her body stretching to accommodate him, and then she felt the edge of a mandible against the side of her neck, followed by a long howl. She guessed that his mouth must be wide open. "How the hell do you do that?" he whimpered as he increased his tempo.

"Do…do what…" She could barely speak. Her heart was racing; she wasn't sure if she was seeing glints of light from the fire off the roof and walls of the hanger, or if there were stars in front of her eyes from insufficient air.

"Expand…so I can't quite fill you…it takes…it takes so long to fill you…you fucking tease…" His breathing was ragged; his breath was hot. His talons raked her back and dug into her shoulders.

"Not my fault…if you can't…handle it…" she panted. His rough chestplate rubbing against her nipples, his ridge against her clit, his cock deep inside her…she was getting bombarded with pleasure from all her hot spots and she didn't know how much more of it she could take. Of course, if she could get more than one orgasm out of this turian bastard, so much the better…

He howled again, kicked up his pace another notch, and Shepard found out exactly where her breaking point was. He rolled, taking her with him, and suddenly she was flat on her back, her knees wrapped around his waist. Her body spasmed against him, her hips pistoning, driving him deep, fucking him hard, and he responded in kind. She screamed, wondering if any batarians up above could hear her, and then his howl joined her scream.

Second later, he slid out of her and rolled off of her, onto his side. She could feel him moving his arms; she assumed he was getting rid of the condom.

"We got sweat in the sleeping bag," he said at last. "Now it's going to freeze, and we'll get cold."

"Should've let me wear my underwear to bed, asshole."

"And miss this?"

"You know, there is another option," Shepard said thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"How long until the heaters warm this place up?"

"It'll take all night for it to get comfortable in here, but the risk of hypothermia should be over in three or four hours."

Shepard looked up into the dimness, wondering if she'd lost her mind for even suggesting this. "How long can you go?"

"I'm good for a few rounds. Yourself?"

"Same." She glanced over at him, his blue eyes shining ferally in the light from the dying fire. "How fast can you go again?"

"Right now."

"Seriously?"

"Of course." He tilted his head. "Is this a surprise?"

"Suddenly your not being human is looking like a good thing." She reached out, caught his wrist. "Give me your hand."

"What's this?"

"I'm teaching you some foreplay, asshole." She rolled onto her side, resting her back against his chest, and brought his hand up to her upper breast.

"Squishy," he murmured. "No wonder you wear that harness."

"It's called a bra." She put her hand over his, showing him how to cup, how to stroke, how to tease her nipple between her fingers. She arched her back and sighed; the turian was a quick learner.

"Excuse me," he murmured, suddenly squirming away from her.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting another condom."

She chuckled. "Have I ruined your own species for you yet?"

"Don't push your luck."

#

Commander Shepard looked down at the turian snoozing on her chest and felt her head start to spin.

They'd been here in this hanger for two weeks now. How long had it been since she'd bothered putting on any clothes? A few days, anyway. God.

The simple fact of the matter was that survival situations could get downright boring. Every day, they checked the generators, inventoried their supplies, did a few walk-throughs of the hanger to test it for safety and security, and watched the scanners to see if the batarians had found them yet. They hadn't seen any sign of the batarians in days, but they kept watching just to be sure. There were a few big earthquakes, which were frightening, but the hanger was solidly built and it had held together fine. And every day they sent off two signals, one to the turian fleet, one to the Alliance.

Shepard cooked the meals, in order to give her turian time to tinker with the electronics. She'd had food for six soldiers in her pack, and since she was the only one left, the food was lasting. She could eat well for at least two weeks more before she had to worry about rationing her supplies. The damn turian had enough rations to feed an army here in this base; he'd be able to last even longer than her.

Once those chores was done, there was little else to occupy their time. Little else, that was, except look for new and inventive ways to screw each other. And that, they had most certainly done.

Sex in the shower. Sex in the truck. Sex down on all fours. Sex up against the wall. Sex bent over the hood of the turian chopper parked in the corner of the hanger. Fast, rough sex. Long, slow sex. Shepard giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"This is a life-or-death survival situation and pretty much all we've done is fuck."

"Complaining?"

"Not as long as the condom supply holds up."

"I figure we can go another three or four weeks before we'll have to start rationing ourselves," he murmured sleepily.

Fuck. Where the hell was she going to find a human man who could screw her like her turian did? Good God, why couldn't he be human? She'd date him in a second. Hell, she'd marry him.

Of course, if he were human, he wouldn't have that delicious little ridge…or be able to expand inside her the way he did…or take her to that razor's edge between pleasure and pain with those sharp claws and his thick, raspy tongue…

She was on the verge of poking him awake so he could put that tongue to some good use when a sound from the comm startled her out of her lustful thoughts.

"This is Alliance cruiser Kandahar calling Commander Shepard." Shepard looked over at her turian as the voice continued, "Commander Shepard, come in."

"You win," the turian said quietly.

Shepard ran for the comm. "This is Commander Shepard, go ahead, Kandahar."

"We have a fix on your position. Can we send a lander?"

"Kandahar, be advised that there are batarian raiders in the vicinity, over." She found herself struggling to speak over the lump in her throat.

"No sign of them on our scanner, but just in case, we'll send down Major Chikari and some Marines to cover your withdrawal. How many of you are there?"

Chikari. Shepard looked over at her turian and felt her blood run cold.

Yes, she'd known all along that she was going to have to turn him over to the Alliance, assuming his people didn't get here first. And yes, she knew that in her position, he would do the same. But she also knew she didn't want to see Chikari rape him. They'd survived this long together; she owed him better than that.

"It's just me," Shepard said into the comm. "The raiders killed the rest of my team."

"Seen any turians?"

She looked at her mate in the gloom of the hanger. "Only dead ones."

"Roger that, Shepard. We should have the lander down on your position in ten minutes."

"Shepard, out." She switched off the comm.

She walked over to her pile of clothes, started dressing herself. She didn't bother trying to salvage the bra her turian comrade had destroyed on that first night. She hoped no one would notice that she was going without one. She doubted they would under so many layers of arctic survival gear.

Her turian was silent, watching her.

"Are you going to be all right here?" she said quietly.

"I don't…"

"If I leave you here," she interrupted, "are you going to be all right?"

He nodded. "I've got a good month's worth of food here. I got a second generator working the other day. If your ship's leaving the vicinity, it probably won't be long until one of mine come by." He tilted his head. "But I thought I was supposed to be your prisoner now."

"Believe me, I'd love to chain you to my bed and make you my personal slave," she said, trying hard not to cry, "but I don't think the Alliance would let me do that."

"More's the pity," he said, and his voice seemed thick as well.

She didn't take any gear. She didn't need it where she was going. There was really only one thing that needed doing.

She leaned over and kissed him. She didn't care that he didn't have lips, and unless she really was deathly allergic—in which case she'd just keel over dead right now, and really, if the things they'd done in bed hadn't killed her, a kiss ought not to finish her—she could deal with a little sickness when she got to the Kandahar. She felt his tongue slide over hers, warm, wet, strangely sweet.

It was the first time they'd kissed.

"Goodbye," she said, and turned her back, running out of the base before the lander could set down. Before she gave in to an impossible urge to just stay here with him forever.

The lander settled into the middle of the field. The bay doors opened, and Major Chikari's Marines stepped out, rifles at the ready. There were no batarians in sight, and her turian was safe in the hangar.

As Shepard stepped onto the lander, she realized that she'd never asked him his name.

End Part One