Characters: John Shepard, Emily Wong
Location: The Citadel, Presidium
It had been less than an hour since the events in the Consort's chambers. In that time, John Shepard had returned to the Normandy, showered, changed, and discovered that of all his crew, only Liara T'Soni was absent — the newest member, a brilliant archaeologist, and, incidentally, the daughter of the late Matriarch Benezia, who had fallen on Noveria.
Her personal comm was switched off, but Doctor Chakwas reported that T'Soni had gone to the Citadel Tower to see the heart of galactic politics with her own eyes. Hardly something he could fault her for — but she still needed to be found. That was why Shepard was in the Citadel's central spire when he caught the attention of Emily Wong.
She was standing pressed against the wall near the steps leading up to the dais where the Council usually delivered their decisions that shaped the galaxy.
"Hey, Captain! It's me! Do you remember me?"
"Emily Wong," Shepard said at once, striding toward her. She looked more modest today than she had back at the hotel. Her slim figure was hidden beneath a long pink dress of heavy fabric, and her arms were covered with opera-length gloves with open fingers.
The young journalist seemed flustered, eyes lowered, nervously playing with her clasped fingers. A strand of her dark hair had fallen forward, hiding one eye. Shepard allowed himself a smile — she was acting like a girl who didn't know how to look him in the face after what had happened between them. So he decided to make it easier for her.
"How could I ever forget you," he said with a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Emily raised her head, finally daring to meet the Alliance soldier's gaze. When she noticed the smile on his face, she relaxed, and her own lips curved upward in relief, reassured that at least one of them wasn't feeling awkward.
"Captain…" she breathed, biting her lower lip. "Hello again. I have a proposal for you."
God, she's adorable, Shepard thought.
"Since you helped me uncover information about the crime syndicate, my publisher gave me a bigger budget this time. I'm investigating the work of transit controllers — could you help me with that?"
She spoke quickly, as though afraid that if she paused or tripped over her words, she would lose the courage to continue. Shepard had to admire her — the speech was clearly rehearsed and run through in her head several times, but it still flowed with a confident energy that demanded attention.
"Straight to business, then…" Shepard said.
Emily nodded quickly — then flushed scarlet and dropped her gaze again.
"Shepard…" she whispered. "I… I don't know how to…"
The captain stepped forward until he was right beside her. Their faces were just inches apart.
"We're both remembering that night, Emily. Don't be ashamed of it. We both enjoyed it, didn't we?"
His smile widened, and it seemed to soothe her. She drew a deep breath, lifted her gaze to meet his again — this time steady, sure. And then, with sudden resolve, she said:
"I want to kiss you."
For the captain, the girl's sudden confession came as something of a surprise. For a fleeting second, an absurd thought raced through his battle-hardened mind: had this young beauty actually fallen in love with him?
But before he could dwell on it, Emily rose onto her toes, leaned forward, and pressed her soft, pouty lips to his. The kiss was quick, clumsy — she was clearly trembling with nerves — and when he didn't immediately respond, she pulled back at once.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered with only her lips, so quietly that Shepard caught it only because he was standing so close.
Emily began to drop her gaze again, but Shepard caught her chin, gently tilting her head back up. Then he leaned in himself. Their mouths met in a hot, passionate kiss, filled with the raw desire only the two of them could share. John pulled her tight against him, and Emily, in turn, slid her small hands onto the pauldrons of his armor.
When at last their lips parted, they stayed pressed together, breathing heavily, unable to contain the storm of feelings rushing between them.
"More than anything right now," John murmured in her ear, "I want to strip out of this armor…"
His gloved hand slid down to the curve of her ass through the fabric of her dress, squeezing firmly, leaving no doubt as to his intentions. And Emily… Emily laughed softly.
"Right here?" she teased, a sparkle of mischief in her voice.
"You think all these people would stop me?" Shepard asked, glancing around. The grand hall, befitting the galaxy's central political hub, was crowded. Office workers, embassy staff, the ambassadors themselves, diplomats of every stripe, officers, soldiers, scholars, artists — every race of Citadel society moved briskly on their business. No one spared the pair by the stairway so much as a glance.
"And if they did?" Emily's fingertip traced slowly up his neck, brushing against the small tuft of his beard, playing with the short hairs.
"Are you teasing me?" John asked, genuinely amused.
"Why not?" Emily giggled. "No one cares about us. Everyone here is buried in their own problems. Well? Do you have any way to ditch the suit?"
"Only if I pop open a special section… you know."
"Ohh," she breathed, then laughed louder than she should have. A pair of salarians nearby shot them an annoyed look before resuming their heated discussion about eezo shipments to some remote moon.
But Shepard never threw out idle words. True to form, he immediately unlatched the panel shielding his crotch. With a quick glance around, he tugged at the waistband of the athletic trousers beneath.
"Not exactly convenient," he muttered.
"Let me…" Emily said. Taking matters into her own small, deft hands, she worked the fastener quickly, then tugged his pants and underwear down just enough. The touch of her fingers was enough to stir him; by the time she wrestled his cock free, it was already half-hard, swelling in her grip.
A genuine gasp of arousal slipped from the journalist's lips as she stood pressed against him.
"Oh, how I've missed this…"
"And what then?" the captain chuckled. His hand still rested on the girl's ass, kneading the curves through the heavy fabric of her dress. Damn dress. He wanted to tear it off, bend her over, and fuck this insatiable little Asian beauty right here. But for now, he had to settle for less — for the way she wrapped her small hand around his cock and began stroking him slowly, her eyes fixed on the thick, swelling shaft.
Two turians and an asari walked past, deep in loud conversation, but none of them spared a glance at the couple pressed against the wall. Shepard, for his part, was beginning not to care. His cock was stiffening, rising from a half-limp six-inch appendage into the full, heavy length of his manhood.
"Mmm…" Emily breathed when he squeezed her ass again. "God, I wish we were back in that hotel room. I'm dripping just thinking about you sliding into my ass… Shepard…"
"Yes, Emily?" he rasped, breath coming fast. He was aroused, but not blind to the danger. Inevitably, someone would notice them. A kiss in such a place was one thing; anyone watching closely enough would quickly realize what else was happening between the journalist and the soldier.
"Relax…" she whispered suddenly. "I'll make it quick."
Before he could respond, she dropped to her knees. In the next instant, her plump lips were wrapped around his rigid cock, and with one sharp plunge she drove at least four inchesinto her mouth.
"F—fuck… goddamn…"
A thousand feelings tore through Shepard. The wild pleasure of her mouth, the thrill of her boldness, the gnawing fear of discovery — it all blended into something raw and intoxicating. He was keenly aware that it wasn't only his reputation at risk. Emily's employers in the media would not be pleased to learn their young journalist had been caught sucking off an Alliance soldier in the very heart of the Council chamber. And yet, that very danger, combined with the grip of her throat around him, made the experience indescribably intense.
She didn't care about the crowd moving past them, didn't care about the captain bracing himself flat against the wall to shield her from view. They were lucky — the wide, branching canopy of a pink-leafed tree almost entirely concealed her from the opposite side. Even so, anyone descending the stairs and glancing right would know instantly what was happening.
And of course, just as the thought struck Shepard, light footsteps rang on the stairs. Panic spiked in his chest. He turned sideways, leaning forward slightly to hide her. Emily gagged as his cock pressed deeper, a wet choking sound escaping her. He glanced down to see a long string of saliva stretching from her lips to the bodice of her dress, mixed with precum. But she didn't let go. She took him deeper still, her throat convulsing around him, and the dizzying pressure nearly blacked out his vision when she swallowed hard.
A young asari in a white gown hurried down the steps, never glancing their way, vanishing into the crowd. Shepard leaned back in relief, but Emily clutched the plates of his armored hips and hauled him forward again, deliberately forcing his cock deeper into her mouth. Shepard couldn't suppress a loud groan. He bit his lip hard, slamming his palm against the wall to cover the sound.
By then, all sense of the surroundings had vanished. His orgasm surged closer, unstoppable. He tangled his fingers in Emily's dark hair, tugging to pull her off. She yielded, his cock slipping free with a trail of saliva that dripped down onto her dress. But she didn't stop.
Mouth open, tongue out, she wrapped both hands around him, jerking fast and hard, pumping him toward release. She angled the tip toward her lips, eyes wide and wet with smeared mascara.
The sight — a young journalist on her knees in a fine dress, makeup running, stroking him so desperately for his cum — was enough. Shepard exploded almost at once. The first spurt splashed against her cheek and shoulder, bouncing off her tongue. The next struck home, right in her mouth, and the ones that followed filled it completely.
There wasn't much — but enough to pack her small mouth full. Emily wasted no time. The moment the last drop was milked from him by her quick hands, she swallowed it all.
Then she stood, coughing lightly, swallowing again. She looked a mess: makeup smeared, hair mussed, a streak of cum still on her cheek. But the smile on her lips — brazen, smug, utterly satisfied — made it clear she didn't mind one bit.
"Well, now you owe me, Shepard," Wong smirked. Her fingers were already tucking his still-softening cock back into his trousers.
"Looks that way," the captain chuckled. "You're a cunning one, Emily Wong. With instincts like that, you'll go far in the news business."
"I'm the best," the girl said simply, without a trace of shame. She handed him the armor plate from his codpiece, and Shepard snapped it back into place.
"You could use a wash," he remarked, eyeing the smudged mascara and streaked makeup across her face. "You look like…"
"Like a slut who just sucked cock?" Emily supplied brightly.
"Like a woman who just sucked cock," Shepard corrected. "Or a journalist clever enough to make the first human Spectre indebted to her."
"Speaking of that, Captain…" Wong chuckled as she pulled a white handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her dress and dabbed at her face. "You can get into flight control, can't you…?"
Not twenty meters away, Liara T'Soni sat on a bench beneath one of the sprawling trees that decorated the Council chamber. She had chosen the spot because it was away from the crowd — quiet enough to think. To think about everything that had happened to her. Her mother's death. Shepard and his crew. Saren and his geth.
And about the fact that Emily Wong had just sucked Shepard off at the foot of the Council's stairs.
Yes. Liara had seen it all. Not just surprised — she was stunned, shaken by what her eyes had witnessed. It still felt unreal, yet from her angle she had a perfect view of every detail. She had seen the kiss, seen Shepard's hands roaming over the woman's slim body. Seen her free his cock from the armor and — Goddess! — seen that cock. Huge, far larger than she had ever dared imagine.
She hadn't even realized humans could have such… proportions. Of course, her knowledge of their species was limited, but Joker's files had crossed her desk once or twice. Human women with men. Sex, they called it — such a strange word. And in those files…
Liara blushed furiously and shook her head. She mustn't think about this. She mustn't! What business was it of hers what Shepard did in his free time? He could put his cock into any mouth he pleased—
Goddess, she was thinking about it again!
No. No, no! Think of something else. Geology. Granite. Granite is a felsic intrusive igneous rock… composed of quartz, plagioclase, potassium feldspar, and mica…
Why? Why couldn't she stop thinking of him?
She cast another glance at Shepard, who was now standing a step apart from Emily, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation — as if nothing at all had happened five minutes earlier. How could they? How could they just forget?
For the young asari, everything about sex was fascinating, mysterious, important. To see it treated with such casual indifference stung. Could humans really be like this? To give pleasure, to join so completely, and then simply… carry on? Was this the danger and allure of their race — their short lives teaching them to move past feelings faster than the asari ever could? Faster than she could?
And were there even feelings in what she had just witnessed?
Her gaze returned to the dark-haired woman speaking with Shepard. Outwardly, Emily's body language was calm, unbothered. But Liara needed only a second to read what was beneath the surface. She smiled faintly. No, she couldn't be fooled. Whoever this woman was, she clearly felt more than business for the Alliance soldier. Her eyes, her hands, her posture, even the rhythm of her breathing…
So, was it Shepard himself that drew her? Or was it what he carried in his trousers?
Oh, no, Liara, you're thinking about it again. All right. Repeat: Mica is a silicate mineral…