In Command

A bit of author's note: my first fanfiction writing attempt, done with DJ Mutante's Frenchcore liveset helping not helping me getting in the mood. Corrected the original formatting.

Original prompt: some Miranda/Garrus Hate - Love romance. Starts out as a fight Could be verbal or physical your choice), adrenaline pumps, Miranda gets aroused when strong Turian slams her into the wall out of annoyance/anger... he smells her hormones :D and it kicks in his 'mating instinct'. Hot sexings ensues. Could be animalistic or tender or just plain old fun sexings... no matter ^_^

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“I didn’t volunteer for it,” Vakarian snarled. “What do you suppose me to do – gather all Shepard’s team and tell them ‘Hey, that’s Miranda, she’s Cerberus operative and you all must respect her, because she’s XO and not me’? If you’re having hard time making the others respect your authority, it’s your problem, not mine, Lawson.”

 

That talk had to occur sooner or later, she reminded herself. Shepard breaking every Cerberus regulation was someone she could deal with – it was Shepard after all, human, Alliance, something she was familiar with. But when she, Normandy SR2 second-in-command met an unexpected competition in the person of Archangel himself, who tacitly became not formal, but actual second-in-command, respected by all new squadmates with apparently no efforts from himself… Not to mention, he made even the Cerberus part of the crew tiptoe around the Main Battery. She had to admit, a tall scarred turian vigilante rarely showing up in good mood was intimidating, even if not taking his impressive dossier. But that ease he was making an impression with – it irritated Miranda. Leadership wasn’t just about intimidation, it was something in him…

 

She sighed and raised her eyes to meet his. Unreadable turian expression on his stark plated face, he leaned on the wall, arms folded, posture tense. Radiant icy-blue eyes bore into her top down like he was scoping her. Miranda fought sudden shivering, retaining her cold façade.

 

“They might be more cooperative with the right example of respect and subordination. Your species are known for being disciplined…”

 

Vakarian pushed himself from the wall, standing straight, towering above her.

“What?” his tone was cold like his eyes. To her cost, Miranda failed to notice the sharp undertone while she continued.

“You must give them a good example. If the rest see you comply with our regulations…”

 

She didn’t quite make out what happened next. One long stride, one fluid motion from the opposite side of her desk, and she’d been literally hauled off her chair, tossed in the air for a split second, and the wall of her cabinet slammed into her back, kicking the breath out of her lungs. She became very aware of armored forearm pressing her against the wall with inhuman strength, looming figure over her, dagger-like teeth too close to her face, bared by spread mandibles. She gasped, trying not to let her legs turn into jelly. For a second terror crawled over her skin, leaving goosebumps; it must be something about the primal fear, being cornered by a natural predator, strong, enraged…

 

The turian eyes were infuriated, Miranda felt her heart skipped a beat when he looked her straight in the eye, hissing.

“What you just said?”

 

Harsh metallic undertone sent shivers along her spine. Crap, she pushed him too far this time. She did her best to recollect herself.

 

“Let go, Vakarian,” she swallowed; her throat feeling suddenly dry and whole body strangely agitated. It’s all about adrenaline burst and a moment of terror, she told herself, not about his menacing posture, his burning eyes… his strength… his alien scent…

 

“Or what?” his low growl bode no good. “I can knock you out cold before there’s a tint of biotic blue on your fingertips. You found a wrong person to piss off.”

 

His eyes were mere inches from hers, digging into her skull with narrow pupils; Miranda could feel his breath, coming out along with his words, on her skin, making it tingle and flush. She involuntarily winced, trying to back off or push him away, or just turn her face away from that alien invasion of her private space.

 

“Twenty four,” his voice rang cold resounding metal, “Twenty four Cerberus operatives I’ve killed in haste of our chase after Saren. And they didn’t even give me a wrong look…”

 

He grabbed her arm halfway from pushing him, twisted it, pinning to the wall; the vicious grip on her wrist made her clench her teeth; something in her lower abdomen responded to that harsh movement with an electric spark. Her eyes widened. No way. No, no, no, she isn’t getting aroused of being pinned to a wall by one of the most dangerous men she ever heard of… Alien, she corrected herself to recollect her thoughts.

 

“What next?” she snapped trying to sound casually. “What do you want from me?”

 

It seemed like her confidence betrayed her; species like turians, heavily relying on tones in their linguistics, were hard to trick. He leaned even closer, Miranda felt her body cringe against her will. She swore she could feel the heat emanating from his body even through the armor, so hotter than human; his scent was intoxicating – a mixture of gun grease, heated metal and something inhuman but unmistakably masculine, something that made her head spin slightly… She shut her eyes, wishing to control her breath and that electricity between her legs.

 

She heard Garrus let out a short dry laughter.

 

“You’re scared of me, Miranda.” His voice was dripping with venom, subvocals deceptively soft. “That’s why you want to have me on a leash. Mind you… it’s not a leash you’re able to keep hold of,” his hot whisper tickled her ear. Her breath quivered, he craned his long alien neck, almost tracing her face with his nose.

 

“Your fear smells delicious…”

 

She realized belatedly her forehead is covered with sweat, giving her away, when she felt a drop running down her right temple. When a hot, rough and moist touch on her skin stopped it and traced its way up, hair on the back of her neck rose. She froze in his grip, eyes wide, almost panicking; if the turian decided to let her go, her knees couldn’t provide any support for her to stand straight at the moment.

 

He released her wrist, his tongue wasn’t on her skin anymore either, yet Miranda felt long gloved fingers on her hair, exposing her right ear and neck to these sharp teeth a stray thought flashed. Fear and arousal stung conjoined, making her heart jump and gut clench. He probably noticed her body trembling, his face was back in front of hers, piercing gaze studying her features. He looked at her for several long seconds without even blinking, then turned and smelled her neck, as if he was trying to figure out something. She felt his breath tickling behind her ear, audible inhale, long pause…

 

He chuckled.

 

Garrus chuckled, voice enriched with deep rumbling. He returned in front of her, eyes shining with amusement.

“Miss Lawson, what a surprise,” he gave her a leering look, pointy teeth flashing, “You’re not just scared of me.”

 

His mouth was too close to her skin, she shivered.

“You… want me.”

 

“No, I don’t,” she retorted automatically, her voice not too steady though. “How dare you…”

 

 

“Leave this crap for human males,” he cut her out, sliding his gloved finger along her jaw line, “I might be not sure from the beginning if that could be some kind of human perfume… But some things are similar between species. Like your pheromones in the air… letting me know you’re eager to loosen up for me.”

 

He almost purred the last words, lifted a hand to his mouth, purposefully slow, watching her reaction – fucking show-off – gently bit on his fingertips and took off his gauntlet with those sharp teeth. Threw it in the corner; Miranda felt hard long digits cupping her cheek, rough finger pad ran along her lower lip – she jerked her head, trying to escape that intimate touch.

 

“I swear, Vakarian, I’m going to scream,” her voice was shaky, she didn’t believe herself as she heard it.

 

The turian flashed her a smile, unabashed.

“Go on. Scream. You think anyone would come to the rescue?”

 

His voice, soft and gravelly at the same time, gave her shivers.

“You know you’re not that popular aboard. They would more likely gather up to enjoy your screams… Maybe placing bets.”

 

His fingers slid along her neck, tugging on her collar, talons ripped it open. She jerked, but he held her steady, dipping his head in the crook of her neck, tasting her skin with the tip of his tongue. Miranda winced, when he found some particularly sensitive spot to tease, desire stung sharply making her squeeze her thighs together.

 

“Your heart rate just peaked,” she heard duotone murmur in her ear, “Breath pattern changed… I got your stats displayed, you still think you can fool me with that stubborn denial?”

 

Armored fingers held her chin when he lifted it for her to meet his eyes – burning with need.

“You wanted to scream?” he took her face in his hands, bending the neck to bring his own face closer, “I’ll make you scream my name, I promise…”

 

She slammed him biotically without warning – or she thought so. Blue energy splashes were about to escape her fingers to send the turian flying, but his reaction was lightning-fast. With a C-Sec-honed skill, he spun her around, putting an armlock on her and forcing her drop to her knees. Miranda yelped from a sharp pain in her elbow, hissed through gritted teeth, trying to recover her breath. Garrus’ firm grip held her in a humiliating position, with her ass in the air and face pressed to the floor, his armored thigh between her parted legs.

 

“Oh, you’re willing to put up a fight?” He stroke her hair with his free hand, long fingers travelled down her spine to the curve of her butt, “I must admit I hardly consider it a turn-off. Back in my military days, there was a recon scout we had a knockdown-dragout fight for nine rounds with, and after beating the shit out of each other we moved to her apartment for a steamy tiebreaker…”

 

He gently traced a seam between her legs up and down, applying just a little pressure when passing her pussy, so she could feel it through her skin-tight clothes. And the mental image he gave her, of him, tall, strong, agile, hot from fight, probably out of his armor, entwined with another woman, didn’t help.

 

“But if you want to play that way, you should put more effort in struggling,” he summed up with a hint of amusement.

“So you set your mind on raping me?” Miranda snapped in helpless rage. “Something going all the way from Shanxi, huh?”

“Oh, Spirits, please,” judging by his intonation he rolled his eyes probably, “That’s so not my style. Speaking of this, I haven’t had any decent, ah, intercourse in a while, but I’m not that desperate, Miranda. Not when I have a willing woman within my reach.”

 

He let go of her arms only to lean closer, bend over her, embraced her from behind. His hands slowly stroke her waist, angular chestplate still pressing her upper body down to the floor, only now his hot breath and rough tongue were back on her neck.

 

“I won’t rape you,” he nibbled lightly on her earlobe, “First I’ll make you admit you want it. I won’t mind if you beg me to have sex with you.”