The crew was dead. All of them, save the Alliance pilot who was now running for her life. Granted, her run was much more of a staggered hop, having twisted her ankle on the way out of the burning ship she had haphazardly landed after the miserably failed evasion tactics. No one in the galaxy could have blamed her for the fate of her crewmates, she really had done everything she could, and her skills at the helm were impressive enough to bring honor and pride to Alliance members for centuries. But ultimately, she had failed, and in this moment, it was all she could think of. And if turians weren't bad enough, a full battalion of batarian and krogan mercenaries had decided to join in the fight for rein over the small human colony in the terminus, eager to take what they could from the grips of Palavan.

The energy expenditure related to fleeing with her new injury was double what would normally have been spent, and the woman was finally forced to stop and rest beside a fire singed tree to catch her breath. She had no idea where she was running to or what she would do once she got there, but survival mode was operating on all cylinders. If she was lucky, she would stumble across a group of Alliance soldiers. Until then, she had a single pistol loaded with her one and only remaining heat sink. Her hand clutched the handle in a nervous death grip, forcing her to point at anything that moved in the darkness around her, illuminated only by the flickering fires of war surrounding the brushy area where she now crouched in hiding.

Her ragged breathing hitched in her throat as a group of four batarians went running past the thin tree trunks only a few feet ahead. She froze where she sat, unsure of the alien's visual acuity in the dark. Her trigger finger trembled on the gun, creating an unpleasant shaking noise on the metal which she worked hard to control. The woman's Alliance issued pilot's uniform lacked the necessary armor for a ground tactics battle, leaving her completely vulnerable.

Taking a few painful steps backward, she made a desperate attempt to escape further into the shroud of night. A twig snapped behind her, but not from beneath her own feet. Before she had the chance to point the gun behind her a large hand was already roughly cupping her mouth, stifling her panicked screams. The cold metal of a gun pressed into the soft flesh beneath her chin and the hot breath of a flanged voice growled into her ear.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll blow your damn jaw off, human."

Turian.

Less problematic than a batarian or krogan, but just bad enough to warrant a cold rush of dread through the pilot's entire body. The hand left her mouth and a large arm crept around her waist, pinning her back into the plating of a chest covered in armor. "Walk", the dark voice demanded, dragging her backward across the mossy ground.

Her injured ankle buckled and rolled beneath her, making it difficult for the turian to move her both quickly and quietly. "Damnit, human! Use your fucking legs!" he barked, still attempting to remain as quiet as possible. The woman groaned an obscene reply between her teeth, earning her a hard jab in the throat with the gun. She gagged and coughed as he continued to drag her along, back into the blackness.

After what felt like miles of painful travel, the turian finally managed to reach his destination. The door to the abandoned freighter hissed open with a smack of his hand on the blue paneling, and he threw her inside after yanking the pistol from her hand. Her relatively small body skidded across the deck. She made a full hearted attempt to crawl back out of the doorway before it closed behind the turian, but he kicked at her, meeting her ribs with a powerful thigh. She groaned and crumbled in pain, screaming when his sharp talons scratched across her scalp, gripping her brown hair and lifting her from the floor. Forcefully, he lead her backward toward the helm of the ship which was approximately the size of a luxury yacht back on Earth. Her hands gripped at his in an attempt to relieve the tension on her aching scalp, but he was much stronger than she was. When they reached the pilot's seat he spun her by the shoulder, still yanking her hair.

"Can you fly it?", he asked gruffly.

"Wh-what?" she asked between pants of breath.

"Can-you-fly-this –ship?", the turian repeated, shaking her head with each word for added emphasis.

She screamed out at the agony in her skull, "YES! Yes I can fly it you fucking asshole, let go of me!"

He released her with a push, causing her to stumble into the chair. Her hand rubbed gently at the sore area on her head as she braced her tired weight against the torn upholstery. Her turian captor was standing by, fidgeting with something out of his pocket which she was vaguely aware of through her peripheral vision.

"But I can't fix it", she explained. "This ship's not going anywhere until the mass effect fields are realigned – HEY!"

A pair of glowing, blue bracelets were linked around her wrists in an instant. "These will shock the every-loving hell out of you if you decide to get too far away from me. Fair warning, human."

"You'd be surprised what I can withstand, turian."

The heat sinks in her gun were quickly unloaded and hid into a pocket of his armor. "Well, let's put it this way; it's me or them. Take your pick", he said with a toss of his head in the direction of the mercenaries.

"To hell with all of you alien bastards!" she shouted.

The turian's massive body rushed at her, and for a moment she thought he might strike her again. Instead, his hand pressed across her lips again as he pulled her close, crashing her chest into his armored one. "Shhh", he whispered. Their heavy breathing fell into rhythm together as they listened to the batarian conversation being held just outside. The pilot furrowed her dark brows as she studied her captor's alien features with the near black orbs of her eyes.

He was tall, probably at least six and a half feet in height. The chocolate brown plates of his face were covered in the white, tribal markings of his clan from Palaven. That much she had learned about the creatures her people were fighting and dying against to maintain their hold on Earth. His green eyes seemed to glow in the deep, dark pits of his sockets. His exoskeleton mandible twitched and clicked with the emotion that his facial features lacked. They were an interesting species, no doubt about that.

The batarian voices eventually faded, leaving the pair of resentful strangers standing in an awkward embrace. The human woman shoved the turian away hatefully, hardly forcing a stumble out of his massive bulk. His strange mandibles spread into what she could only perceive as a turian smirk and he sauntered toward her with slow confidence, closing the distance between them again.

"I'll make you a deal: I fix the ship, you fly the ship, I don't kill you when we reach Palaven. At worst you'll be a prisoner of war."

She sneered at his arrogance, "I'll be driving the thing, dumbass. What's to keep me from flying you right back to Earth and making you my war prisoner?"

"Knowing that I will kill you if you break the deal."

"Then what? You're floating aimlessly through space with zero knowledge of the bike you're riding? I don't think so, bucko."

The two were nearly nose to nose by this point, challenging one another's glare fearlessly. The sudden release of loud, baritone laughter made the woman jump slightly, and he outstretched a three-fingered hand in a gesture of truce. "You got spunk, human. More than I can say for the rest of your pathetic species. Kryik. Deykus Kryik."

The brunette took a long, pensive pause before allowing herself to answer with a hand in return, "Circe."

His hand engulfed her, squeezing just to the point of discomfort, "Humans don't have last names?"

"None you need be privy to."

The relaxed chuckle from within his chest worked only to further aggravate her raw nerves, and she tore her hand from his grip.

"Should take me no more than a couple of hours to get this Alliance piece of shit up and running, then you can get us the hell out of here", he turned to leave, speaking back over his broad shoulder at the glaring woman behind him. "Just keep in mind, you go one inch outside my twenty foot radius and ZAP!" His deep laughter rumbled through the hull, leaving Circe shaken and furious, rubbing her injuries in the dark.

Circe sighed in frustration from her pilot's seat, "Keep pointing that fucking gun at me and I'll crash this thing against the next rock formation."

Deykus was unperturbed, lounging casually in his seat about three feet to her right, gun pointed in the direction of her throbbing skull. He lifted his mandibles into a turian smirk as he watched her, "Just keep your eyes on the skies, prisoner."

The human rolled her tired orbs, "I'm exhausted. This thing has a calibrated auto pilot. We're at least sixteen hours from the nearest relay, just let me get some rest."

The turian's brow plates furrowed in thought while his green eyes travel up and down along the length of her body, making her shudder and adjust her weight uncomfortably. She was such a strange creature to him, soft and pale. The strands of her alien hair had been much softer than he expected, and the scent was surprisingly pleasant. For the past few hours he had watched her pilot the ship, tormented and torn between his scolding thoughts and the tension growing behind his groin plates. Part of him knew he could use a break himself.

"Alright, fine. Take three hours, then get your ass back to his helm", he answered, placing the gun in his hip holster and crossing his arms in his chest.

Circe rose with another roll of her eyes. "Asshole", she muttered beneath her breath, not expecting his acute turian hearing to pick up on the sound barely above a whisper.

A foot kicked her hard in the rear as she past, sending her flying into a nearby wall.

"You're a disrespectful little human bitch, you know that?" he barked, rising to his feet to tower above her.

She turned with a scowl, rubbing her sore shoulder, "Maybe I'd be more pleasant if you weren't throwing me around all the fucking time!"

"You're my war prisoner, not my house guest. What do you want from me?"

She tried moving past him, "I don't want anything from you."

Her narrow waist was admittedly appealing, and it curved and swayed as she attempted to maneuver around him. Before he had voluntarily made the decision to do so, his large bulk impeded her path, "Nothing?"

He wasn't sure exactly what the hell he was doing. In fact, he was pretty sure his own neglected hormones were plotting against him. There was no way any fully functioning brain cell in his head would allow him to act on the tingling sensation running beneath his plated limbs. For the last eight months, Deykus' crew had consisted of a small ship full of males. Not a female in sight. Not even a cross-species curious asari dancer on the last shore leave. Call it desperation, but there was something about this woman that shook him to the core, and in this moment, his logical mind was clouded with a million erotic thoughts and wild expectations.

Amidst the scattered array of flowing mental images, he had nearly missed the obvious fact that Circe had not answered his last question with an act of violent retaliation. In turian culture, if the female rejected a male's advances, she'd make it well known. This wasn't a turian, though. He had to keep telling himself that. So, how was he to know if she accepted him? He figured there was only one way to find out.

Placing a long arm into the wall next to where she was pinned he slowly lowered his head, breathing lightly onto her neck. His mandibles fluttered, tickling the skin on her collarbone. His pride swelled, as well as other things, when she didn't shove him away or strike him. Instead, his actions seemed to be causing small bumps to spread along the delicate, pale tissue which smelled so sweet and alluring. His long, blue tongue ventured outward, catching the salty, soft skin gently as he drug the flat of the rough muscle from her shoulder to just behind her ear. She shuddered, maybe even moaned a little, and he felt his lower plates completely shift apart with heated desire.

"War prisoner or sex slave?" he heard her ask finally.

He lifted his head enough that he could see her face, taken slightly aback by her question. "I'm not going to rape you, Circe. You either want this or you don't, but don't make me out to be some sort of savage, disgusting animal. My people are more honorable than yours, remember that."

Her dark eyes studied him intently for a few moments before she responded, "How exactly do turians fuck, anyway? You gonna stick your finger in my ear or something weird like that?"

His armor rattled with his chuckle, "Well, I can put it in your ear if that's what you're into, but it won't be my finger."

Circe couldn't believe what she was actually considering. It may have never even crossed her mind if the topic hadn't been so blatantly presented to her, but now, curiosity was getting the best of her. Besides that, it had actually been quite a few years since her own hormonal stress was satisfactorily lowered to baseline. And if the turian's sheer size and tenacity was any inclination to what he had to offer in bed, well she might just have to betray her own species for just one night.

"Not afraid of dishonoring your people just to fulfill some kinky fantasy about dominating a stinking, filthy human in the sack?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

His expression froze, considering her words. Part of him wanted to tell her that she was neither stinking nor filthy. In fact, the longer he stood this close to her, the more his throbbing cock twitched and begged to be released from its harsh confines. The other part of him was disgusted by the notion of even allowing himself to 'dishonor' his people for no other purpose than to calm his boiling sex drive. Pushing back against the wall with a snarling scoff, Deykus decided to do himself a favor and keep enemy lines solid. He'd rub one out, take a nap, and feel better in a few hours. The turian shook his head in an attempt to lift the sexual haze, turned, and began to walk away to the back of the ship.

Circe was admittedly disappointed, but concurrently relieved by his obvious decision to ignore their growing lust. She watched him stomp away before closing her eyes and resting her head wearily back onto the wall behind her with a long sigh. The quiet hum and vibrations of the ship lulled her into a state of calm. Just as she was about to lift her body from the wall and find a place to sleep, the thudding of quickly approaching footsteps grew louder in her ears. She opened her eyes just in time to see Deykus only a foot from her, reaching his long arms out to grab her by the waist.

"Fuck it, c'mere", he growled between gritted teeth, lifting her up into him.

Her legs swung around and wrapped tightly around his waist as she met the plates of his mouth with her own soft lips. His head jerked back with sudden surprise. The action was unexpected and completely alien to him. He was unsure how to react until she gave him a seductive smile, curling her delicate fingers beneath his fringe to pull him back toward her. Fingertips rubbed across the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden there, causing him to moan loudly and melt back into her strange kiss. Her lips parted on his and he mirrored her motion, greeted by the pleasant taste of her tongue exploring his mouth. Again, he copied her and was satisfied by the heightened excitement such a foreign act could bring.

Deykus held Circe by tightly by her round ass, stumbling backward with her until they crashed into the opposite wall. Moans and deep growls filled the empty air of the ship, accompanied by the sounds of armor pieces being unfastened and clanging to the floor as they were removed. The loudly purring turian shifted his weight on the wall, rolling over to press his strange alien lover up hard against the metal interior. His newly exposed hips ground into her pelvis, giving her the first tactile preview to the incredible organ hiding just behind the black under armor. The sound of ripping material preceded the sensations of six talons pricking into her sensitive flesh. Much to her surprise, however, rather than grimacing in pain, the brunette found herself arching into the sharp sting. Her head lifted, resting back onto the metal siding of the ship. Her soft keen set fire to the turian's growing lust, and he nipped at her delicate collarbone, clicking his mandibles loudly.

"You sound like an insect", she groaned, attempting a shallow insult between her pleasure.

His jaws locked onto her shoulder, making her yelp and hiss. "Slight me all you want, human, but I can smell the sweet arousal in your cunt." His flanging vocals sent shivers down her spine. In fact, everything about him had her writhing and grinding against him in a way she had never known of herself. "Beg me for it."

Her head rose quickly, dark eyes searching his furiously, "What? Get fucked, turian."

Talons gripped her hair, yanking with short tension, "You heard me. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you, because you already know I can do it better than any human male you've ever known. I'll make you cum until you beg me to stop, and even then, I won't cease until you're laying unconscious at my feet. Tell me you want it, beg me for it."

Circe bit her bottom lip, struggling between the Alliance trained pride and the sexually submissive deviant she knew she already was. The very idea of a man treating her in bed the way Deykus was now made her unbelievably wet, though she'd never admit it. She wanted it, wanted him, and he knew it. There was no hiding that look in her eyes.

Unlocking his pelvic pin on her so she could slide down into standing, Deykus shifted his weight to allow room for his long, muscular arm to travel between the two of them. His massive hand dipped quickly into her uniform slacks, making her gasp. He was surprised by the presence of short, silky fur he felt shadowing the center stripe of her sex, and pleasantly impressed by the thick, creamy lubricant already soaking her soft folds. He smiled as her legs parted slightly, welcoming him into her hot center. Taking his sweet time he swirled and slid along the slick warmth, making her moan and buck as he traveled over the strange, hardened nub at her apex. He made sure to concentrate on this area before finally dipping a thick finger into her, sliding in slowly to circle within her depth and drag a long line along her front wall. His finger made one more pass over her sensitive nub just before his hand retreated and he rested nonchalantly against the wall, awaiting her furious reaction. He wasn't left disappointed.

Circe's angry eyes pierced into him as she panted, barely able to hold herself up on her feet. "Why…why did you stop?"

"I thought you wanted me to", he replied with a sly grin. "You never said anything to let me know otherwise."

"You shit head", she groaned, hormones forcing her to resign to what she really wanted. "Quit playing around and fuck me already, will you?"

Before she knew what had happened Circe was thrown onto her back, resting upon one of the supply crates in the middle of the ship. The turian stood over her, growling and yanking at her pants which he removed quickly and threw into the wall along with her boots. The laces had been completely cut and dangled from the scuffed leather. Deykus' loud purrs echoed through the hull as he removed the rest of his armor, staring his prize down with a predatory glare that sent goosebumps across her exposed flesh. The final clink of armor hit the ground and she sat up momentarily to pull her shirt and bra over her head. A large hand pressed roughly against her chest, forcing her back onto the cold metal of the crate beneath her. His hands found leverage on her thighs, pulling her ass slightly over the edge toward him. She draped her legs over his shoulders, resting them onto his hard carapace with a deep sigh.

"One more time", he whispered.

She rolled her eyes as his talons dug into her with anticipation, "Please, fuck me turian."

Her halfhearted plea was met with the shocking plunge of his thick shaft deep inside her. The pair cried out, throwing their heads back with erotic bliss. Circe couldn't believe the billions of incredible, new sensations trembling through entire body. She shuddered as his hard length began a harsh rhythm, pounding into her while delicious ridges and bumps massaged her G-spot.

The strong turian moaned his pleasure and snatched her knees from his shoulders, pushing them wide apart and back, holding her firmly in place so he could get a clear visual of his hard, blue cock sliding in and out of her small, pink core. The way her muscles tightened, pulse, and fluttered around him so tightly sent his every sense into overdrive. She was so hot and smooth, yet she gripped him like she would never let go. His thickness stretched her to the point that he silently feared he may be hurting her, but her passionate moans and keens encouraged him to continue on, faster and harder, pulsing and pumping. He could feel his first orgasm drawing dangerously closer with each passing second, and the view from above served only to drive him further over the edge into sheer ecstasy.

Remembering the sensitive bud at her apex, Deykus laid his hand over her mound and swiveled his large thumb over the hardened, raised flesh. Almost instantly Circe bucked her hips, released a desperate cry, and tightened a death grip onto his throbbing cock with her deep muscles. The very strength of it, in combination with the incredible milking sensation it performed on him, sent the turian tumbling over the edge with a deafening, alien screech.

The orgasm shredded through them, deeper and more intense than either one had ever experienced. Circe reached overhead, gripping onto the crate beneath her for stability, anything to ground her to reality and prevent her from passing out. The climax was prolonged, heightened to the point that she felt it would never stop, but it soon began to retreat. As it did, she became vaguely aware of the hard weight being laid across her chest and abdomen. Her eyes parted lazily as she panted in recovery, giving her a view of the spent turian resting over her, fringed head lying onto her bosom. His hot breath beat onto her, and his subvocals hummed delightful vibrations through her skin.

"Spirits", he groaned, "I changed my mind."

"Hmm?"

"Fuck war prisoner. Sex slave is a much better plan." She chuckled heavily, smacking him in the plated shoulder. He sat up suddenly, pulling her up toward him. His tongue sought hers out, rolling within her mouth to coax it out into the open where they tangled wet, alien muscles together though heavy breathing. He parted from her long enough to demand, "Go recalibrate that autopilot to take a longer route, then get your sexy ass back over here so I can fuck you again…" his raspy tongue met her again before sliding to her neck, "…and again…", down onto her collarbone, "…and again…", over a taunt nipple, "…and again…"

Circe smiled and moaned at the sensation of his traveling tongue, glad to take orders from her new captor, secretly relishing in his dominant nature.