A/N: And now it's sequel time! I'm really excited/flattered with all the feedback I got with Galaxy's Oldest Profession. I hope you like this follow-up story as well.

"Shepard, that is the Men's Room. It is currently occupied by Officer Vakarian." EDI's voice is clear enough to reach the Mess Hall. Which falls silent after EDI's admonishment. "The Women's Room is-"

"EDI. I know." Shepard says, sighing. "I'm going in to see Garrus."

"…My apologies. I did not realize you were intent on intercourse." The red light on the locked door flashes and turns green. It slides open, revealing Garrus bent over with laughter.

"Shut up," she tells him as the doors close behind her. His laughter dissipates when she grips the hem of her shirt and yanks it over her head. "And drop the towel."

Garrus complies with speed. He stalks over, pulling her to his bare chest. For a few long moments he fumbles with her bra clasp, muttering into her hair as he wrestles with it.

"Want me to do it?" She asks.

"No, I got it," he replies. Struggles with the contraption a little more before slashing the fabric with his claws. They both watch the garment fall to the floor.

"You owe me a new one," she tells him. "I really liked tha—fuck." He's stroking his blunted claws over her nipples. Sliding his tongue between her breasts,

"You were saying?" He chuckles and moves them into the shower stall.

"Shut up and fuck me."

"You make me want to salute you." Garrus twists the shower knobs and hot water pours over them.

Her eyes sweep down to his member. "I think you are."

He chokes on a laugh as he slides down her body and onto his knees. She gropes for the knobs to increase the water pressure and block the sounds out better. When he's going down on her, she can't keep quiet. Not one bit.

Shepard's head falls back as he suckles her clit, working her fingers into his fringe. He grumbles, hands wrapping around her thighs. Sliding up to cup her ass.

"Fuck," she gasps. "Fuck. I can't-"

Someone knocks on the door. "Garrus hurry up! All the bathrooms are taken!"

Garrus pulls away, murder in his eyes. She bets she's mirroring the expression. "In a minute, Donnelly!"

"How long does it take for you to shower?" Donnelly bangs on the door again.

Not willing to deal with this barely twenty-four hours after she almost lost Garrus, Shepard peels away her lover's hands and marches to the door. Hits the panel with her fist. The doors unlock and swish open.

"We'll be done when we're done," Shepard snarls. Donnelly makes a noise like he's choking. His eyes follow the water running down her naked body, transfixed. "Are we clear?" Shepard asks, leaning forward.

She hides a smirk as he jerks back, face scarlet. "We're clear! We're clear!"

"Good. Now stop staring at my tits."

"I wasn't-I didn't-" Donnelly throws a hand over his eyes and retreats to the elevator. Laughing, Shepard closes the doors.

"You're evil," says Garrus, shaking his head. He's got a towel clutched in front of him. "And now the mood is gone."

"Oh yeah?" She snatches the towel from him. His eyes widen when she eases onto her knees. "We'll see about that."

After that, Donnelly makes a habit of disappearing whenever Shepard is around. She doesn't need the stern lecture Miranda dishes out in the aftermath to feel bad about it.

It occurs to Shepard though, that alienating the crew is a poor idea. The only reason she's on the Normandy is Garrus. And life has a way of shaking things when you get complacent. He might get killed on one of Commander Williams' missions.

Or dump her. She's the one with alien inclinations and not much to offer besides a good right hook and a healthy sex drive. Someday, he might want someone closer to home.

Even off Omega, the rules she survived by still apply. Look out for yourself. If you find a good client, make yourself indispensable. Shepard does a little snooping to discover what the crew needs—better rations for Mess Sergeant Gardner, Serrice Ice Brandy for Doctor Chakwas, Fornax for Joker—and track them down. She's made a decent amount from her hooker days. Not a fortune though. She'll need a way to cut costs.

So when Ash (odd, calling her that instead of Commander Williams) visits the Citadel after Omega, Shepard tags along. Convinces her to visit the shops. The clerk at the first one is an Asari maiden with bright eyes and a radiant smile.

"Hello," Shepard greets with her most pleasant customer-service-voice. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

The Asari nods but keeps glancing at Ash. Trying to determine if the woman is who the clerk thinks she is. "Of course ma'am."

"I have a business proposition for you. If my friend, Commander Williams agrees."

"Shepard," Ash hisses through her teeth. "What are you doing?"

"C-commander Williams?" The Asari breathes, clutching her hands before her. Ash ducks her head, cheeks swelling with pink.

"The very same." Shepard leans in. Her dress is low enough to give the clerk a good eyeful. But her target is too busy beaming at Ash. "What if she gave your store an endorsement? Could she and her crew get a discount for that?"

Ash reaches forward, pulling Shepard back. "What are you-?"

The Asari squeals with delight. "Oh yes! I'd even let you use my own employee discount. Please, Commander?"

"I…" Ash falters at the clerks's wide, hopeful eyes. "Alright."

No other store clerk is as delighted as that Asari with Shepard's offer. But they all agree to the proposition. In a few hours, there are ten Citadel stores that, when entered, chime, "I'm Commander Williams and this is my favorite store on the Citadel."

Shepard's requisitions go over well. There's enough goodwill to balance out the Donnelly incident amongst the crew. Not a bad scheme she's pulled off.

Their next destination is Korlus. Shepard doesn't expect to go with the ground squad, being the most novice of the Commander's recruits. But she wants to prepare for future outings. The rest of the day is spent calibrating her guns and sparring with Jacob Taylor in the cargo hold.

The man is in impeccable shape. He shows Shepard his warm-up routine and she feels like a weakling, straining for that twentieth push-up when he's on number sixty.

She does better when they progress to hand-to-hand. Jacob's still a tough opponent though. He confesses that he did a lot of boxing in his Alliance days. Shepard studies the controlled way he does spars. His method isn't rigid—he has a fluidity in his movements—but there's a specific technique in how he does things. Shepard is more quick and dirty, unhesitating in the cheap shots when there's an opening for them.

He calls it quits when dinnertime comes. Shepard remains, working on her stretches. The solitude is comforting. She and Garrus have been bunking away from the crew in the Main Battery but privacy is still scarce. Maybe they'll have to come down here to get some serious fucking done.

Soon as she starts enjoying the quiet, the elevator opens to dash it all away. Miranda comes in, heels clicking against the floor. They're nice shoes. The kind Shepard would borrow if the two of them were friends.

"You've been hard at work," says Miranda by way of greeting. Shepard gets to her feet, wiping her brow with her white towel (emblazoned with the Cerberus logo in the corner, of course).

"I like to keep busy."

Miranda puts her hands on her hips. "I heard you bought new rations."

Shit, has she broken more protocol? This time it really was an accident. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all." Miranda shakes her head. "But you don't have to pay out of pocket. We'll be glad to reimburse you."

"Don't worry about it." Shepard puts the towel round her neck. "Glad to help out."

"I've noticed. You've been productive."

"I have to be. I know I'm only here because of odd circumstances. Pass me that water?" Shepard motions to the crate near Miranda. The other woman hands over the water bottle atop it.

"We're aware of your talents, Shepard." There's that "we" again. Does it mean Miranda and Ash or Miranda and Cerberus?

"So'm I. But you wouldn't have brought me on if Garrus hadn't insisted." Shepard takes a long swig of water. "Now that I'm here, I'd rather stay on my own merits. Does that make sense?"

There's an odd smile on Miranda's face. Her lips press tight together as the corners of her mouth quirk up. "I understand that. Just don't overwork yourself. Relax a little."

"That's what I was doing when Donnelly interrupted."

The odd smile gets more strained. Not surprising from a Cerberus operative. "Good. I'll let you be."

They exchange nods and Miranda departs. That woman seems to know everything. Does she know about Shepard's former profession?

Probably, if Cerberus did their research on Zaeed. Well if she knows, Miranda doesn't seem to have any hang-ups about it. Only gets weird when the idea of interspecies romance comes up.

Cerberus' loss. If they really want to make things better for Humans, they should introduce the species to the Turian dick.

The cot in the Main Battery isn't made for two people. Shepard balances herself on Garrus' chest post-coitus, hips fitting against his.

"Maybe we should get you a cot of your own," says Garrus. He clamps his arms round her, locking her in.

"Ask the Commander tomorrow." Shepard rubs her foot over his leg. "Will it be some kind of safety hazard? We could bunk in the cargo hold."

He shrugs. "I don't mind sharing the one cot. As long as we're not in the crew quarters…"

"Oh God no, never the crew quarters." She shakes her head. "Then we'd never get to fuck."

Garrus laughs, the sound vibrating through their clasped bodies. "What? You don't want to stick to using the showers?"

"Last time we did that, Miranda gave me a speech about sexual harassment." She folds her elbows on his stomach, resting her chin on her forearms. "What we need is a big, real bed. With nice pillows. Bet the Commander's got one."

Garrus' eyes widen. "Spirits, Shepard. Ash would kill us."

"Joke," she smirks. Though it's a fun idea. She'll file it away in case Ash ever pisses her off.

"What about…a hotel?" He strokes her back. "I know a few on the Citadel. Or maybe if we go to Ilium…"

"I could do that. We've never done it on a real bed."

"…We haven't, have we?" His hands trail down her sides. "I should make a list of places we need to have sex in." He averts his gaze and mumbles, "Or on."

Shepard pulls herself up, bringing her lips to his ear. "Go on."

"Well ah…" His claws trace the curve of her waist. "You know. Night club bathrooms. C-SEC interrogations rooms. Antique stores, but only if they're classy."

"They don't need to be-" Shepard gasps as he shifts them around, sliding off the cot so he can pin her beneath him. She swallows. "…classy. I'm not exactly a lady."

"You're the classiest female I know," he replies, sliding his knee between her legs,

"Uh huh." Her eyebrows rise. "Bet you say that to all the girls."

"Wrong again Shepard." Garrus nips her shoulder. "Never romanced someone before. Just…ah…"

"Blew off steam?" She's been with one or two Turians, learned a few things. Their soldiers are encouraged to relieve each other when things get tense on the ships.

"…Yes." He clears his throat and his eyes flicker back and forth.

"Do you have a question?" She prompts.

"Were you ever romanced? By a non-client I mean." He hunches a little, worried he's offended her.

"Once or twice. They didn't last." She slips a hand from his loose grip to rub his scarred mandible. "Couldn't handle what I did at work while I was dating them."

"Humans?"

She nods. "Yeah. You never had that problem."

"Well…it was your job. And if anyone's profession was grounds for calling things off, it was mine."

"Proved that wrong. Anyway…" Shepard sits up to kiss him. "I think I want to try fucking just one person."

"Same," he returns the kiss best as Turian anatomy allows. Shepard becomes pliant under his touch as he presses her back down onto the cot.