Title: Pinned

Rating: M

Summary: Shepard and Vega's relationship blooms into something heated. Story hinted at in Blind. Can be read separately. FemShepard/JamesVega

A/N: Thanks for reading. Review please.

Pinned

Shepard's head hit hard when Vega smashed her up against the crates that made up the walls of his little 'office space', but she didn't really mind. The adrenaline was still buzzing through her veins, the rush and stress of battle still thrumming steadily in her blood, and she couldn't really feel much of anything anymore besides an undeniable high. The pain that came with the initial shove faded fast, and surprised pleasure replaced it almost instantly.

James' mouth was hard on hers, demanding and utterly unyielding. He kissed like he fought, a surprisingly potent mixture of luck and skill. Hands gripped her shoulders, the sharp edges of his battle armor keeping her pinned against the wall, hips locked, legs entangled as far as they could be with the crates just behind them. As they kissed, fingers moved along her neck and slid into her hair, pulling at the careful bun until stray tendrils came to fall around her face.

"God," she murmured around his lips when he fixed an arm around her waist and tugged her closer, away from the wall and toward his own body where she wrapped herself around him like a vine would a tree. In all the time that she'd known him, she'd never really realized just how large he was, fully built and almost ridiculously muscular. His chest alone was wider than her shoulders, his neck thick and easy for her to wrap her arms around, waist slim, thighs and back strong.

As odd as it was, Vega made her feel small, petite even. Shepard hadn't felt that way since before she joined the Alliance, and the thought thrilled her straight down to her curling toes. She slid her hands up, touching the short strands of hair at the base of his neck, knocking their teeth together as she tried to press ever closer, kissing with a ferocity usually reserved for her enemies. Every straining emotion she'd felt in the last two hours went into the kiss, lacing it with frenzied energy and confusion and above all, an incredible lust.

Amazingly, the sudden and surprise attraction had burst into existence on the Citadel when she should have been more preoccupied by the unknown hitman on the Council's trail capable of not only incapacitating Thane but outrunning her, Kaidan's apparent ignorance of the entire situation, and the destruction of the very structure she'd been standing on. But in the midst of all that chaos, her body just couldn't help but notice how firm and handsome James was when he pushed her out of the way of a sniper's targeting laser and, fortunately or unfortunately, landed on top of her.

Heavily-armored legs entwined, his arms braced protectively over her small frame, chest to chest, belly to belly, his nose nearly brushing hers, their breath coming in controlled pants, adrenaline rushing through their veins like Halex…she'd had a difficult time focusing. Luckily for her, he'd noticed the suddenly sexually-charged atmosphere, too, and reciprocated. She was almost sure he'd been about to kiss her, or at the very least say something, before the enormity of the task before them had jolted back into her short-term memory, and she'd shoved him off rather roughly. "Later, LT. Focus," she'd groused, picking up her shotgun.

If saving the Citadel had been comparable to Hell, she didn't know what to compare the ride back to the Normandy to. Her fingers had itched to bury themselves into his hair, her mouth burning with the desire to kiss his dark skin, taste the spice of his Spanish roots. With Cortez, Kaidan, and Garrus all riding shotgun, though, she'd reigned in the impulse and kept her curious fingers to herself, at least until they got off the shuttle. Then she'd not-so-subtlely followed him back to his little corner in the cargo hold, and he'd not-so-subtlely decided that the newfound tension between them should snap.

His hand slid between them and tugged on her blood red carapace, the buckles straining against the sudden pull. Shepard had paid through the nose for the heavy piece of armor back when she was with Cerberus, but right in that moment, she didn't even really care if he broke it. Eventually, though, it became apparent that he didn't intend to break it—to her immense disappointment—but was only making it known that he wanted it off. So, fumbling to keep upright and undo the buckles, Shepard managed to remove the chest plate that had saved her life many times over. It fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Beneath the carapace, she was wearing a tight leather and latex body suit, which was more protective than it was sexy. It clung to her shapeless hips and small breasts, she supposed, but it was flat black and padded underneath to give an extra inch or so between her and whatever might be trying to hit her. The zipper ran the length of her front, from her chest down to her lower belly. James didn't pay any attention to it, mouth preoccupied with biting and lapping at her jaw. She ducked her head and pulled him into another heated kiss, nipping at his lower lip and tasting the blood from the cut there. The scar on his mouth was silky smooth and provided an interesting texture against her own undamaged lips. She lifted her small fingers and cupped the side of his face, her thumb rubbing at the scar almost absently.

His hands moved to her ribs, running smooth palms down the squeaky texture of her suit. She could barely feel it through the padding, just a light pressure against her ticklish ribcage. As he trailed back up toward the zipper to her suit, she wondered for a moment just how far this was going to go. Would she stoop to having sex in the cargo hold with a colleague because of a heated attraction that made hardly any sense at all? Would he? Would it really be stooping at all?

Just as Vega's fingers clasped the zipper, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since the shuttle ride, Cortez's voice echoed in the cargo hold, and they both froze. Shepard's heart picked up an impossibly faster beat, slamming against her ribs, desire momentarily dampened as surely as if she'd been hit with cold water. Footsteps sounded on the metal grating, Cortez asking one of the engineers if he'd checked the pressure in the fuel tank after landing.

Shepard's nails dug into James' shoulder blades, blunt keratin scratching against polished bullet-proof metal and plastic armor. He hunched over her in a protective stance, as if determined to keep her out of view. It didn't matter, really. If Cortez got anywhere near the side of the Hammerhead, they'd be caught. Not that there was anything he could do about it or would do. Shepard was the commander, and with the reapers destroying every advanced species in the universe, no one was going to court-martial her for fraternization or sexual harassment. That was the last thing they could do.

But she might lose respect—perhaps not Cortez's but the other engineers were probably not as kind-hearted or understanding as he was. Shepard found herself hunching even further in James' arms as he crowded her against the cargo boxes, biting her lip in a worrying manner as Cortez's feet on the ground became louder.

Despite the dire circumstances, she couldn't deny the tiny part in the back of her brain thrilling at the thought of being caught. It made what they were doing even more dangerous, even more foolhardy, and the chemicals rushing beneath her skin skewed her view of the serious situation. That was probably what prompted her to squeeze Vega even closer by flexing her thighs, pressing their groins together. He let out a surprised noise deep in his throat followed by a near growl of warning. They couldn't talk, couldn't risk Cortez turning his head. Vega pinned her to the crates and became a rigid wall of taut muscle. The warning was clear: don't move until the danger passed.

Shepard could see just a glimpse of her engineer over James' shoulder. He appeared to be examining the shuttle, for what she couldn't imagine. For once she found herself cursing his sense of duty and care. She shooed him in her mind, clinging steadily to Vega and trying to slow her breathing; she hadn't even realized that she'd been panting.

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity of Shepard trying for patience while sandwiched erotically between some metal crates and a warm, incredibly attractive body, she decided that enough was enough. Cortez wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she wasn't either. Besides, they were both too mussed to try to make it to her cabin with their dignity intact. And who said that, if given a chance, Vega wouldn't change his mind?

Very slowly and deliberately, she angled her chin so that her lips were touching his, their eyes meeting again. She slid her tongue over his lower lip, tasting his heady flavor. The warning was there in his eyes again, in the set of his shoulders, but when she put pressure against his mouth, he caved. He kissed her warmly, body falling easily back into its liquid grace, tongue pushing past her bone-white teeth to taste and explore. She stifled the moan building and ran her fingers through the spiky hair at the base of his skull.

He was hot, so very hot against her. On the Normandy, everything was cold, from the way Kaidan treated her to the icy surface of the metal walls. Vega, though, he was made of fire and passion, forcing a sweat to break out on her skin. Against her lips he murmured something in his native tongue, spurring her interest even more. More than kiss, more than touch, she wanted to know him inside and out.

Her fingers trailed down and hooked into his belt where a frag grenade still rested against his hip. They'd both given it no thought when crashing about like animals, but now she felt a slight unease spreading through her at the feel of its bumpy surface beneath her fingers. "Take this off," she mouthed against his skin, barely any sound coming out, and she tugged on the belt lightly. His surprise was apparent, and he immediately followed orders.

Unhooking his belt with a commander delightfully wrapped around him proved difficult for all of thirty seconds while Shepard muffled her breathless laughter against his collarbone. Eventually, with deft fingers and one or two foreign swear words that caused him to pause and glance over his shoulder at Cortez, he managed to unhook the belt and drop it carefully on the ground. The grenade wouldn't go off until the pin was tripped, but Shepard still winced at the sound of it clinking softly to the ground.

Next she commanded that he remove his own carapace which hid the skin-tight Alliance tee he always wore. Desire shot straight south at the thought of running her hands over his powerful pectoral muscles and strong abdomen. She hooked her mouth against his, nails digging in slightly at the back of his skull as he struggled with his straps. When his chestplate clattered to the ground, she couldn't help her roaming. She pressed the fingers of her left hand, the other thrown around his neck for balance, into the hard planes of his stomach, rubbing her thumb against his ribs as she devoured his mouth, groaning low in her chest.

James grabbed at her zipper, pulling gently at it, the sound of metal gliding on metal triggering a tingling sensation in the pit of her belly. The silvery fastening split her clothing right down the middle, revealing her training bra and powder blue panties. His hand dove inside, warm fingers against the supple flesh of her middle, arm winding around her waist and yanking her flush against him as their tongues entwined. He bit at her lower lip, drawing it out slowly before letting it go, enticing brown eyes keeping level with her own. A shiver shot up her spine.

Cortez interrupted again with a sharp shout, and they stopped momentarily. Shepard angled her head around James' shoulder and peeked out to see Cortez's shoes retreating from their previous position. She nearly sagged with relief. Of course, he wouldn't be out of the room, but he was at the very least further away from them.

Vega tugged lightly at her panties, palm flat against her lower back, groin locked with hers, and Shepard felt the question right down to her very bones. His eyes said it all, curiosity and worry clouded by lust. How far was this going to go? She also saw the willingness to back off there behind his own desire and realized with a certainty that she most certainly didn't want him to do that. So she began to wiggle out of his arms, and he let her go reluctantly. Once her feet were on solid ground, she whispered, "Help me get out of this, LT."

Surprise flitted across his face but was quickly replaced with something darker and more primitive when he saw that she was serious. She tugged at the latex and hard leather bodysuit, shoving it off her shoulders and squeezing her thin hips out of the lower half with a graceless sort of desperation. Once she was stripped, he crushed her against the crates again. Their frenzied energy was back, and she fumbled with his clothes.

Of course, being completely naked would be utterly out of the question. The cargo hold was cold on its best days, and if they were caught, it would only make their situation that much worse. Besides, with the liquid heat pooling in her belly and the jerky movements Vega was making, she wasn't sure either of them would last all that long. She quietly went over in her head just how much they could get away with stripping off as he yanked off his metal armor.

By setting his armor atop her leather bodysuit, it was much less noisy. Shepard stood far more exposed than he, but she was the least likely to get in trouble out of the two of them. While she was in her underwear (which she hoped would come off soon) and her thin bra, he was fully dressed in a cotton tee and cargo pants with another damned belt in the way. Her disapproval over the belt did not go unnoticed by him, and he cracked a smile at the vicious glare she shot its way.

"I'll take it off soon," he promised, nipping gently at the lobe of her left ear. She whimpered, feeling him sure and firm against her bare belly. He was no longer supporting her entire body, and so he had to lean down to lock their lips again, his thumb caressing her jaw. Dog tags swung to and fro from his chest, a thin silver chain looped loosely around his neck. The cold metal tapped her chest a few times, and he grabbed them and threw them over his shoulder in slight agitation.

"Don't have all day, Vega," she arched her hips, longing to have his slotted against hers once again. It had been so long since she'd last been this close to a man. Years, even. She didn't even know what her body's response to an intrusion of his size would be, but she knew she damn well wanted to find out.

Shepard vaguely registered that there were people talking in the background, computers whirring, the gentle clicking of guns as they were dismantled and polished. Her gun rack was near the consoles. The engineers often picked through them, improving weapons for her to take out with her onto the field. Vega didn't seem to mind that there were people so close by. He flattened his hand sensuously against her lower belly, noses touching as he met her eyes before slipping his fingers past the thin waistband of her panties and boldly touching her where no one had in such a very long time.

She bit down on his lip, drawing blood, scrabbling for purchase at his shoulders. His mouth quirked up into a pleased smile, fingers twisting. She arched against him, disconnecting their kiss, biting back a groan. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt anything so overpowering. Even previous lovers hadn't caused her to come so undone. She was panting in a very unladylike fashion, biting at her lip to keep from crying out, utterly debauched. Suddenly the fingers left, an emptiness taking their place, but James wasn't finished.

Slowly, he helped her shimmy out of her thin panties. They caught around her ankle, and she found herself embarrassingly in need of his help to keep balanced as her legs were shaking too badly to really focus on equilibrium in that moment. To his credit, he kept the smugness to a minimum.

Then he dropped to his knees.

Shepard nearly toppled over at the sight, his strong hands locking onto her thighs, pinning her sufficiently to the unsteady wall of crates behind her as he leaned forward, kissing along her hip bones. Nipping teeth and searching lips followed, sucking her skin into his mouth, almost determined to leave unsightly bruises. She found herself carding her hands through his hair, encouraging rather than pushing away. Who cared? No one would see them down there, and she was rather fond of the territorial marking. It hit her in a carnal way, making her shake.

Hot breath ghosted over her core, a tongue snaking its way inside of her. She tipped her head back, sucking in a ragged breath as pleasure exploded in her limbs, making her fingers clench and her toes curl. "James," she whispered breathlessly, tasting his name on her lips.

He didn't tease long. Perhaps his own straining arousal called for his attention, or perhaps he realized that, given their current predicament, it wasn't the best time. He stood and swept her into another heart-wrenching kiss, plundering her mouth as he quickly undid the standard military-issue belt. Impatient, she pushed his hands out of the way before he could slide the belt through the loops and simply popped the button on his pants. Whether it was proper that he was dressed and she was not didn't really matter to her. She wrapped her hand around him, scalding in her palm, and pumped his erection a few times.

James went entirely rigid in her arms, groaning against her mouth. "Fuck, Shepard," he cursed, trailing his lips down her throat.

"No protection," she whispered heatedly, letting go and help him push his pants down. "Just don't…" she trailed off, but he understood, giving her a nod.

Without ceremony, she was lifted off her feet again. There wasn't such a height difference between them, but she figured it was probably easier for him to lift her than bend down. With all his rippling muscles, her compact frame didn't seem to strain him all that much.

Lifted up and wrapped around him once more—where she was finding herself very comfortable and at ease—heart beating in a rapid tattoo against her ribs, she rested her lips at the hollow of his throat and pressed a gentle kiss there. "Shepard, okay?" he asked, and she gave a slow nod, fingers sliding over his damp shoulders.

"God, James, just please," she whispered against his warm flesh, smelling spice and shampoo and burning buildings. His hand closed around one of her breasts, kneading light, and she hissed at the added sensation as he slowly pushed inside of her. The feeling was so utterly foreign that she scarcely knew what to do at first, concerned for a moment that her negligence of her love life meant that they wouldn't fit together so well. But her body remembered quickly enough and opened up, and she felt the burning heat in her body increase.

White-hot bliss erupted in her limbs, and it took all her strength not to cry out just a little. At the very least, she wanted to shout his name, to feel it tingling on her tongue. Instead, she forced his lips to hers, hoping that he would swallow the impulse. He did, kissing her roughly.

His thrusts were shallow, ridiculously teasing. He kept her just on the edge of wanting, canting her hips toward him when he pulled away. In retaliation, she bit at his shoulders, nails dragging down his back in a hope to scratch him up. For what seemed hours, he teased. Every single time that she felt her orgasm building at the base of her spine, he would stop completely, making her keen in annoyance and complain against his lips with a colorful assortment of curses.

The third time he did it, Cortez's voice rang out loud and solid in the cargo hold, and she clung desperately to James. They were both sweat-slicked, their hair in disarray, swiftly running out of time. "Please, LT," she begged at last, keeping fervent eye contact.

"I gotcha, Commander," he whispered intimately into her shell-shaped ear. With a self-satisfied smile, he slid to the hilt, sending a lightning strike of pleasure mixed with pain right to her core. She hugged him, a grunt escaping as he picked up the rhythm of their thrusts. God, she hadn't felt such a zinging sensation in ages, and she savored every last connection of their hips, reveling in the slight smacking sound. Her skin was flushed a feverish red, her mouth slightly open by the overwhelming sensation.

Her climax built again, and she bit down hard on his shoulder. "If…you stop…LT, I will…kick your ass…off this ship," she threatened in a weak and breathy voice, pausing with each gasp and rocking thrust. By the increase in his rhythm, it was her best guess that he wasn't stopping anytime soon. Still, a warning never hurt.

Vega smiled, and gave one last hearty thrust to send her over the edge. Shepard tumbled into orgasm with a sharp cry that wasn't totally muffled by her LT's meaty shoulder. Still, it was too quiet to be heard over the smooth buzzing of the engine, and Cortez would think nothing of it. She became utterly boneless, collapsing against him without elegance, and James laid her gently on the ground, kneeling with her. The feeling of him sliding out with her new sensitively sent her into a shiver, and she closed her eyes to bask in the euphoria that came after really good sex.

A grunt beside her told her that he had finished, as well, and she gave a slight sigh. She would have to get up, do something about the roaring havoc the reapers were causing on the galaxy. She couldn't just lay on the cold ground with her LT beside her, preferably holding her. A soft thumb caressed her lower lip, and she opened her eyes to see James staring at her, a real fondness in his eyes.

"Doing okay, Commander?" he asked.

"Absolutely wonderful," she answered without shame, leaning up to kiss him on the mouth. "You're…good, James Vega. You're so good."

After all that they'd just experienced together, he actually blushed. The reddish tint came unbidden to his dark cheeks. "Uh, thanks, ma'am."

She actually intended to say more, but heavy footsteps on the metal grating around them reminded her that they couldn't be caught in such a compromising situation. Words of encouragement or teasing or sealing a promise of more or never again would have to come later. She nearly jumped into a standing position, yanking on her panties before climbing inside her leather body suit. James got the picture quickly and did up his zipper and belt. He helped her with the buckles on her carapace and tucked the stray hairs behind her ears.

Even dressed, they were in a state of utter disarray. His hair was too short to stick up, but he was panting and flushed a delightfully dark color. A thin sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe. She was much the same, her light-colored skin making it easier to see the rushing blood beneath. Once he'd patted down her hair, and they'd both caught their breath, Shepard grinned and reached up to kiss him again.

Only to wrench back when she heard Cortez call his name. Footsteps approached in rapid succession, and the engineered called for him again. James looked at her in helplessness. "I'll see you, LT."

Steeling herself, and hoping that she didn't look completely debauched, she ducked out from James' office and nearly ran straight into Cortez. His hands caught her around the shoulders, steadying her. "Oh, woah, Commander. Sorry, I didn't know you were back there." His tone was light, surprised, and repentant. There was no teasing in the statement. He didn't know.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I was just giving James a little lesson on strategy in the field."

James appeared beside them, something uneasy in his eyes. "Yeah, she helped me out a lot," he offered. Cortez shot a look between them with a raised eyebrow, perhaps picking up on her LT's new mood.

"All right."

By popular demand (Well, like four of you) here is the cargo hold scene hinted at in Blind. I'm sorry it took so long, but I wasn't going to do it. Then I changed my mind. Thanks for reading. Review please.