A/N - I wrote this, on a dare, as a little birthday gift for a friend who ships Shoker. I mentioned it to a different FF friend when we briefly joked about her own smut chapter of an unrelated story, and she promptly challenged me to post it. This was, I recall, quickly followed by the dreaded double-dare. It's been about a month since then, and, well...

Krish!

The smashing lamp brought them to a momentary halt from their rolling around on the door and wall, kissing fiercely in the darkness. After a pause, they both burst into quiet laughter.

"That'll cost us," chuckled Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau, mumbling against the lips of one Lieutenant Commander Sam Shepard.

He could feel, rather then see, the smirk form against his mouth. "Mmm, that'll cost me, you mean. Room's in my name."

It was very difficult to focus on what she was saying, with alcohol blurring his senses. The fact that she was nibbling on his bottom lip as she spoke didn't exactly help, either.

"Your fake name," he offered helpfully. His hands slipped down between them and neatly undid the buckle of the slender belt she - needlessly - wore in her hip-hugging jeans. In response, her teeth captured him in a playful bite. "Ow!"

With a wicked grin, Shepard released his lip from her teeth. "Malinda Pummel will accept no back-talk, soldier."

Joker deftly slid the belt out of the loops of her jeans and dropped it to the floor. "I love your professional-wrestler alias, it's so subtle. Like yourself. 'Excuse me, everyone, I need to take this man to my room and ravish him.' Really, Sam? I thought Garrus was going to have a significant cardiac event." The pounding music of the club Fringe thumped distantly through the walls and floors.

Shepard shrugged and laughed. "When is a cardiac event not significant? Anyway, it's my birthday. Garrus is free to get laid on his own time. And from the way Tali was popping antibiotics..." Lacing her fingers together behind his neck, and she leaned away from him to give his hands space to operate, looking down and watching him undo the front button of her jeans. She did a long intake of breath as he slowly slid the zipper down, savoring the moment. "Did I ever mention...the sensation of someone else doing that...so hot."

"Mmm, I can't disagree. You can return the favor in a bit." Reaching up, he took her shoulders and gently steered her around so her back was to him. Stepping close, he pressed himself against her back, gently rubbing his hardness against her still denim-clad ass, as his arms enveloped her slender waist.

With a quiet moan of happiness, her arms moved up and over her head, reaching back, and removing his SR-2 hat, and tossing it aside as he kissed the side of her neck. "Feels like sooner the better, hmm?" Teasingly, she pushed herself back into him, and slowly writhed against the lump at his groin. Joker's breath caught for a moment, then he playfully bit the exposed skin at the top of her shoulder where her black t-shirt ended.

"Not yet, Miss Pummel." His hands slid down into the open flap of her jeans, skimmed under the thin material of her decidedly non-regulation satin panties, and brushed past the wisp of auburn-red hair she had been carefully maintaining as of late. He felt her whole body shudder against him as he sank his middle finger into her hot and slippery folds, then deliberately stroked upwards and over her bud with the now-slick digit.

Shepard grunted something - mumbled and unintelligible - and pressed back into him hard enough to make him stumble a step, his back hitting the wall. She went with him, pinning him there, and rolled herself against his fingers as he rubbed her with a slow and steady pace, his other hand on her hip, both steadying her and deliberately slowing her motions to frustrate her. Joker pressed his face against her neck, breathing in the scent from her hair as she repeatedly attempted to speak. Grinning, he purposely timed extra-firm strokes against her as she tried to speak, and her gasps, moans, and curses kept interrupting her.

Finally, he stopped his motions, without withdrawing. "Sorry, what was that?"

His commanding officer swallowed noisily, drew in a deep breath, and found her voice. "You...annoying...bitch. Best hands...on the Normandy. No...wonder EDI likes you so much."

"Well, I don't touch her quite like this. The interface is all wrong, y'know."

"Poor girl. Jesus. Can we...get to the bed? I'm ruining these jeans so...OH." Her hand shot down and seized his wrist to still it, gripping it as firmly as she dared. "Ffff..."

He had punctuated her words with one additional long, slow caress through the center of her - savoring the feel of her slippery coating over his fingers. "Hmm? Didn't catch all of that."

"Bastard." Still holding his wrist, she removed his hand and playfully tossed it aside. Leaving her jeans flapping open at the front, she walked away from him, deeper into their darkened room. "I'll be on the bed, stripping naked and potentially even pleasuring myself. You can hang out here if you want, Lieutenant." With a deadly grin tossed over her shoulder to him, she vanished around the corner.

The pilot shook his head, for a moment considering all the moments of his life that led him here. "Yeah, well, fuck that." He limped after her, reaching down to adjust himself in his - uncomfortably full - fatigue pants as he went.

When he entered the room, she was standing at the foot of the bed - her back still to him - with her thumbs hooked into the waist of her jeans. "Hey," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder to him with one eye. "Didn't want me to continue my party without you?" With a deliberate wiggle of her hips, she began to inch the waistband down.

He was behind her in two steps and lightly slapped her hands away. "No, I'm the jealous type. Need to be involved." Falling to one knee behind her, he hooked his own fingers in her jeans and slowly drew down the tight material - some additional, helpful hip-wiggling was applied - until they were bunched around her knees. Her panties quickly joined them. Leaning forward, he kissed one firm cheek, nibbling it as she stifled a giggle.

"Don't! If I take a bullet tomorrow and end up in medbay, I really don't want to explain the teeth-marks on my ass to Dr. Chakwas."

"Have I ever told you that you have a fantastic ass? I mean it. You don't really care about being a girl and being sexy and all that, but...you don't know how many times I turned around to watch you walk away." He underlined his words by giving both of her buns an appreciative squeeze.

He heard her chuckle. "Ok, one: I can't believe I'm standing here with my pants down while you literally kiss my ass - but obviously I'm not stopping you, either. Two: You want my secret? Spend twelve years humping armor and weapons up and down the hills of random battlefields. Really works the glutes. Oh, and followed by a complete rebuild by a nefarious high-tech corporation. Three: Of course I knew you were doing that, idiot. I only walk this way when I'm leaving the cockpit." She illustrated her words by giving her hips a roll, purposely waving herself in front of his eyes and being rewarded with a quiet groan.

"Mmm. I've not given you enough credit for being a naughty girl, Shepard."

"Burden of command, soldier. I have to maintain appearances." She paused, frowning at herself. "Said the woman with her pants around her kne-" Her words were cut off as he rose back to his feet behind her, placed one hand between her shoulder blades, and abruptly pushed her forward. Legs trapped together by her half-lowered jeans, she bent forward at the waist and caught herself with her hands on the mattress, leaving her bent forward and straight-legged before him. "Hey! Listen up back there, Lieutenant. I'm not your play-toy to maneuver around as you pl...OH. Oh God."

Resting his left hand on her lower back to steady himself, Joker had buried two fingers inside of her without pretext, gently pumping in and out. Feeling her internal muscles contract and squeeze at him, he grinned, thrilled at the sensation and longing to bury himself in her hot, wet core repeatedly. Soon.

"You're not?" He punctuated the question by sinking the fingers as deeply into her as possible, then giving a slow twist.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to form coherent words, even as she shuddered again. "May...be...for a...minute. Oh. Shit. Don't stop. No, wait. Stop. Get your...unf...pants..."

His fingers withdrew.

"Pants off," she continued. "Just like this. I want you inside me, now."

Thwack. His hand smacked solidly against her left cheek, startling her into jerking in place, and leaving a sunburn-sting behind.

"What the f..."

"Quiet, birthday girl. What are you? Thirty-one? Twenty-nine? You kind of had a two-year time-out, there." As he spoke, she heard the sound of his own buckle and zipper being undone behind her.

"You're asking me math questions? Now? Fuck, I don't kn-"

Thwack!

"Ow! Stop that!" Her protest lacked conviction - considering that she laughed while saying it.

"You're saying stop, but you're still waving your beautiful ass around in front of me." Conversely to his one solid slap to each rounded cheek, he now gently stroked the skin of her hips and lower back, placing himself behind her. Even in the dim light, her pale skin - a lifetime spent on ships and encased in protective armor - showed the outline of his palm and fingers. He regretted marking her so - suddenly protective against the mild abuse he himself had applied.

"You know, Jeff, when it's your birthday next, I'm going to slap the living shit out of y-"

Grasping her hips firmly, he plunged forward, easily burying himself completely inside of her. Her cry of pleasure cut off her words, and he groaned as well as her hot, slick walls clamped down on him. For a moment, he held the position, not moving, enjoying the feel of her ass pressed against his lower abdomen as he ground himself into her as deeply as he could. He gasped out...something. Horrible profanity. A promise of love. A recipe for pancakes - he had no fucking idea what he said, he was so lost in his own mind.

The greatest warrior-diplomat the galaxy knew. A cybernetic hero-knight of old, risen from the grave to save mankind - and more - from the mechanical terrors of deep space. Loathed or adored by billions. She could be the archon of her entire species - if she simply desired it and seized the position.

He was fucking her. Chewing his bottom lip and fighting for control, he withdrew out to the tip and slowly went back in again, this time savoring every inch that she accepted of him. Jesus Christ. Think of something else. Anything. She was so wet - like hot, melted butter...fuck fuck fuck think of something else!

She was speaking - no, she was crying out to him. What? It was like fighting his way out of tunnel-vision to focus on the outside world. She was telling him how good he felt, and how deep he was inside of her, and how fucking big and hard he-...oh shit. Don't listen to her. Shut up, Sam.

Mid-stroke, he stopped. Eyes tightly closed, he willed himself to hold back. Don't move. Want this to last. Don't...move.

On her own, she pushed back against him, smacking his stomach with her ass as she impaled herself deeply on him, then forward, then back again, even harder.

He could have pulled away, but primal need warred with his desire to prolong the experience, and kept him in place as she fucked herself on him. "Stop! Shep...sto...!"

"No," she gritted out between her teeth. "Cum in me. Fucking explode in me. I want to feel it."

"Sh...nnn..." his words trailed off into a wordless grunt as his vision filled with dancing lights, and as he seized her hips in an iron grip, he pushed forward so hard he thought he would go through her. It seemed as if his entire body exploded out of his engorged, huge-feeling penis. He shuddered as again and again he spasmed, spraying her insides with his feverish seed. Distantly, as if she were miles away, he heard her voice saying filthy things to him in encouragement. This was it. He thought he would die.

Even after he was finally emptied, his hardness twitched as his muscles involuntarily contracted, trying to shoot forward with more fluid than he actually possessed.

"Oh fuck, oh God. Shepard. Oh, fuck." Gasping, he slowly came back to reality. When did my face get so sweaty? Jesus. Still painfully hard inside of her, he didn't move, savoring the grip and heat even as the blood roared in his ears and his knees weakened. Finally, he extracted himself as she groaned quietly at the loss of fullness, and collapsed next to her on his back. Still on her hands, she leaned over him and peppered his face with kisses.

"Wow," she murmured as her lips pecked him on the nose, mouth, chin. "Someone is a big, strong barbarian who stormed the gates, tonight. Mighty spear in hand, even." Trying to not laugh at her own lame joke, she kissed his lips even as he tried to gasp for breath.

"Can't. Talk. Dying. Barbarian. Down."

"Well, your ravished wench says suck it up, soldier, because in about twenty minutes I'm going to be on you like Grunt on a cheeseburger. And this time, I intend to come all over you like a fucking dragon."

Jeff stared at the ceiling, past her, glassy-eyed. "Right. Grunt. Burger. Dragon. I'll be here. Not moving."

With a quiet laugh, she rolled over, finally lying on the bed next to him. Drawing up her knees to her chin, she removed her running shoes and jeans neatly before standing. Whipping off her shirt and bra, she dropped them on his chest as she walked to the washroom where the promise of shower awaited. "You're in for a long night, by the way."

He turned his head in time to watch her, naked, as she padded away while humming Happy Birthday to You to herself. The muscles and thin, faded scars of her body played over her with her movements - promising strength, power, and endurance. The ultimate soldier. She would be the death of him.