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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer - OASIS

This is a prompt fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer!

PROMPT WORD: OASIS - | - WORDS: ~2600

Rated: "E" for "Extremely Spicy" [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Alive with the Dawn" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: "Please, Siha, lie with me beneath the sunrise."

A/N: @yennas sent me an ask box prompt for "a kiss on the wrist" and I got... carried away lol. I had been planning to write a "oasis vacation fic" and that prompt was the spark that lit the fire lol

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Thane has a way of awakening her body like no one else does.

The first wisps of sunlight begin filtering through the open patio in their bedroom, bidding her to wake with the dawn as he bids her to wake with his body. Nearly soundless, he whispers over her bare skin, hands blazing a trail ahead that he follows with his mouth. He’s so gentle she might even call him reverent, every sound on his lips like a prayer to his gods and his loves.

He presses firmer as she stretches off the stiffness of sleep. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel him - a palm low on her belly, pressing her backside against his unclothed hips.

For a moment she almost forgets where they are. The atmosphere is like a dream - plush sheets beneath her, gauzy pale curtains shifting with a gentle desert wind, casting slow flickering shadows across their bed. Fresh air in her lungs, silent but for the leafy palm fronds that shake in the breeze.

An oasis. A moment just for them, two lovers snatching one earned moment in the chaos of the galaxy on the cusp of war.

She rolls back against his body, humming at the welcoming heat of bare scales, smooth and lustrous after so many days under the desert sun.

“Good morning, Siha,” he whispers. He leans over her, sheets cast down around his hips, and kisses her forehead.

“Morning.” She works the sleep out of her features and cracks her eyes open, still bleary. “Is it just the sun or have you always been this gorgeous?”

She rests a hand on his cheek, stroking his glossy green scales.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he says in amusement, closing a gentle hand around her forearm and shifting his lips to her wrist.

The way he kisses her makes her body sing unlike anything else. She might be spoiled for pleasure for the rest of her life, because there’s never been a person who’s touched her like Thane does. His devotion makes her spine tingle, firm lips opening over her pulse to lave his tongue along skin she never knew could be so sensitive.

To have died and been resurrected for the privilege of sharing a bed with this man… there are no words. She surrenders herself to his soft affections; he’s hungry for her in a way she never would’ve thought possible. At times it's lust and at times it's sweetness, but always, it's something deeper, difficult to grasp. He practices love the same way he lives it - with whispered devotion. Every touch is a sacrament, every word a promise.

She sighs as he tastes her skin. She never knew, never would have believed in intimacy this perfect. Past lovers took their pleasure from her, left her bored and unsatisfied. It wasn't until she first kissed Thane that she learned the purity of a lover's touch.

“No scale unturned,” she murmurs as he kisses along the inside of her forearm, fingers soothing not far behind.

He's bemused. “Turned scales are painful, Siha."

She closes her eyes and smiles, unwilling to stop him as he blazes a trail across her collarbones. “I’d have guessed. I was making a joke. Humans have a phrase: No stone unturned. It means you’re very thorough.”

He hums, lips over her breastbone. “It warms my heart to see you like this.”

Her smile is beaming. “It warms my heart when you… oh…” his lips push tenderly into the side of her breast, just over her pulse, and again atop one dusky nipple. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?”

Shepard bites back a moan as his attention shifts to her other breast, flicking its peak with his tongue. With confidence unfaltering, he responds, “I have the privilege of a receptive lover. One might argue that you are simply good at receiving pleasure.” There's delicious pressure on her ribs as his hands push into the base of her breasts, appreciating their softness. “I’m called to you, Siha. I seek only to love you as you deserve.”

Heat blooms across her cheeks and she presses into her pillow, averting her eyes.

Scaled fingers graze through her hair. “You’re flushed. Are you... blushing?”

It’s embarrassing, but she meets his eyes as he cradles her cheek in his palm. “Shut up. It means I like you.”

From somewhere within him comes a deep sound. She’s heard it before, the one he only makes for her. With a kiss atop each of her flushed cheeks, he says, “Dra’shu, se tu-fira.”

Each syllable rolls off his tongue like water, coated in that rumbling baritone she loves so well. She could listen to him talk for hours, as though only good and beautiful thoughts could be spoken in such a language. She whispers across his lips, "What did you say?”

He answers with a gentle kiss. “By Arashu, I am lost in you." The words are their own kind of reverence as he nuzzles into her neck. "Even your skin calls for me. You are a blessing."

She kisses his scales in gratitude. Accepting compliments has never been her strong suit, but he knows that.

The mattress shifts and he stands from their bed, fingertips trailing along her arm. "Come out on the patio with me?"

She cracks open an eyelid to catch his scales glinting in the dim light as it creeps through the doorway. "But it's so early."

"Indeed, it will be more tolerable for you while the sun is still low," he offers, kissing her forehead. "Please, Siha. Lie with me beneath the sunrise."

He's poetry in motion, and she is his willing listener. She shifts, throws an arm out to leverage herself up only to feel his strong arms snake beneath her waist and knees. As if she were a damsel, he carries her out to the patio, scales warm like glazed clay against her bare skin. Why had they even packed clothes? There’s no one around for miles.

Their vacation villa is settled among a manicured collection of desert flora. Tall palm trees sway above smooth stones and greenery, partially surrounded by a swimming pond, and further still is the sandy stretch of desert dunes. In the sky, night is beginning to melt into day, stars still twinkling in the darkest reaches of the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon behind their villa. And there among the various amenities is an outdoor sunning bed, complete with white sheets and gauzy fabric draped around a breezy canopy. Thane sets her gently on the mattress and she settles in, stretching out on her stomach in sleepy contentment.

He's right about one thing - the warming sunrise feels like autumn in reverse, slowly heating the chill of desert night into a sweltering day. The air is just right. It strikes her that she doesn't find it weird to bask fully nude under the sky. Years of combat training have conditioned her against such vulnerabilities, but the persuasive power of their luxuriant getaway is too great to ignore. Years of hypervigilance unravel with startling expediency, but does it matter? If this is to be how she spends her last moments, she won't complain.

Thane sits upright beside her, wordlessly brushing her hair away from her skin. She's nearly fallen back asleep when he begins rubbing sunscreen slicked hands across her back.

Those hands of his - the first time she’d seen them, they were snapping necks and crushing windpipes. Back then, sharing his bed had been the furthest thing from her mind. Now, luxuriating under a brightening sky, it feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime; she's been privileged to learn that those same, deadly hands are capable of no small number of pleasures.

She breathes out her anticipation when he straddles her thighs. The first deep press of his strong, scaled fingers into her flesh sends a throaty groan from her lungs. If he wants to rub her back like this, she sure as shit isn't going to stop him.

“Fuck , never stop doing that.” she sighs.

Thane merely hums in appreciation, massaging sunscreen into her muscled arms and shoulders.

It’s hard not to fall back to sleep beneath those incredible hands of his. Like he knows her too well, he's carefully keeping her awake as only he can. He covers her, lips brushing the back of her neck and ghosting down her spine as he drags his hands down her sides. When he kisses the small of her back, his palms settle on the firm hill of her backside, sliding and kneading with confident strokes. Shepard honestly never thought a butt rub would feel so good - to have gone her entire adult life without experiencing this? Ludicrous. His hands are heaven sent, igniting nerve endings she never knew she had, sowing his own need into her skin, tempting her to arousal.

He reaches the backs of her thighs and he's not shy about letting his fingers brush along their apex. Each firm press of his hands carves deep rivers of pleasure into her flesh and she’s melting under his touch. Her body sings with contentment, longing, and everything in between. She hasn’t felt this unguarded since before her enlistment. The promise of pleasure to come, the wonton love he lays into her, endless worship of her flesh until he finally surrenders and presses his fingertips into her wet center.

This time, when she moans, it’s another sound entirely. Her voice betrays the heat rising in her chest and between her thighs as he works her. Plush lips meet the base of her spine as he settles between her knees and pushes her hips up in the air. She lets him - good god, she’d let him do anything after he’s carefully unraveled her for what feels like hours. Ass in the air, he pulls her against his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud of her arousal while his hands roam the curve of her backside.

He licks into her lazily, clearly in no hurry and indulging in her arousal. That deft tongue carries his venom into her body and before long she's tingling with that familiar high. She's slowly burning up, eager for more - her body begging to be loved senselessly in the morning sun.

She tries to flip over, but he stops her with his firm grip, a demure "Please..." slipping her throat with every unrelenting stroke of his tongue. He doesn't linger - in moments he's upright on his knees and teasing her clit with the tip of his unsheathed erection.

She bites her lip. "This isn't too impersonal for you?"

"Shepard," he says, in that deadpan he uses when he doesn't want to repeat himself, "Please believe me when I tell you there is nothing impersonal about the way l’ll make you scream for me."

Whatever thoughts that might've been lingering in her mind are gone the moment he utters those words. The chills down her spine are the only warning she gets before he's pushing into her slick channel, prying her open with that exquisite, smouldering sting that feels like nothing else. He huffs out a breath, each subtle ridge of his florid length stretching and filling her, slowly pressing forward until his hips go flush with her thighs and she rocks impatiently into him.

“Fuck… fuck, Thane. I wish you knew how good this feels.”

He chuckles quietly and the expression vibrates through him enough to make her eyes roll back. “I'm not even moving, Siha."

"Yeah," she huffs. "My point exactly.” From this angle, he lodges so perfectly against her core that even the unmoving press of his hardness makes her see stars.

Cradling her hips, he pulls back and rocks into her again, groaning at the wet, silken heat of her body. She's already beginning to come apart, clutching at the sheets beneath them. It’s unparalleled, what he does to her. Becoming one flesh, whispering his admiration to dive straight into her heart and know her as the woman she is with no pretense, no reservations. Two people from different worlds, but crafted so finely for one another. She swears she can feel every nerve in her body as sure as a tree feels every quaking leaf upon its branches. She absorbs the intense, breathtaking heat of him like a life force, granting her power beyond imagining to receive every pleasure he has to give. From his most subtle touches to the blinding fire of each deep thrust, she feels him.

And good god , how she screams for him. Sound carries across desert sands just as much as it does on a starship, but this time there's no one around to hear her come undone. Her voice is boundless, lost and drifting through ruffled palm fronds and across golden dunes. The sounds of their ecstasy lighting upon no ears but their own.

His palms round over her backside, drifting over muscled thighs, finding the heart of her arousal and slicking his fingertips against it without mercy. He tilts his hips just so and the new angle is somehow impossibly deeper, the darkness behind her wide-shut eyes erupting in shards of color. Her voice is a throaty sob beneath his touch until she breaks apart, shouting for dear life because there's nothing in this world or the next that feels as good as he does. She rides herself on him until her climax saps her strength and she's left moaning, quivering and breathless, Thane above her seeking his own completion.

He could never hope to know the pleasures his body bestows upon her. Her world is immaterial. There's only the sun and sweat on her back, the sweet, light air in her lungs - the snap of his hips sending chills down her spine and blooming heat in her chest as though her nerves aren't evolved enough to interpret the sensations rushing through her. She fists her hands in the sheets, back arched downward with a cheek pressed into the mattress and unable to think of anything but the blood-boiling pulse of him between her legs.

He chokes out a roar when his climax takes him, suffusing her depths with the tingling warmth of his release. The sweet, floating high of him overtakes her nearly instantly as they tangle against one another, panting and spent, rustling air dancing over sweat-slicked skin and glossy scales. Above them, the golden sky is banishing the last touches of night and the sleepy warmth of exertion overtakes them both.

She slumps heavily into the sheets, and he beside her.

“I’ll be honest, this isn't what I expected when you asked me to ‘lie with you beneath the sunrise.’”

He brushes an errant lock of hair from her eyes. “Nor I," he smiles. "I confess, you're very… distracting.”

Shepard laughs, "No shit, you're insatiable. I haven't had this much sex since… actually I don't think I ever have."

"Surely you had lovers before me?"

"You aren't my first, if that's what you're asking. But I wouldn't call them lovers." She pulls her arms around his neck and he nuzzles his face unabashedly into the softness of her chest. Her voice is low. "No one's ever given me what you have, Thane."

His throat rumbles in appreciation, and he shifts to meet her eyes. The sun illuminates the brilliant green of his irises and it feels like gazing into peace eternal. And then he laughs, unexpectedly.

She quirks an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Siha,” he says with a smile. “Simply put, I never thought I’d get to call myself Commander Shepard’s boyfriend.”

She kisses the dark scales adorning his forehead, giggling, and pulls him into a tight embrace.

Commander and assassin are long forgotten titles as they lose themselves in one another in the lazy sunlit morning.

#shrios #zet writes things #thane krios #fshrios #spiritual shrios summer #spiritualshriossummer #lenny faceeeeee #good morning and happy sunday

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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer - Release

PROMPT WORD: RELEASE - | - WORDS: 2686

Rated: "E" for Extremely Spicy - not for children AO3 Link: "Singing Southward" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: "But her blood is singing southward, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine."

Full disclosure, this prompt fought me and kicked my ass the whole way. I can't look at it anymore. I hope it's more enjoyable for people who haven't been looking at it for like two weeks lmao. Many thanks to Rosenkow for that excellent playlist that really inspired my Shrios muse.

The heavy thrum of battle is where she loses herself. Shepard would take sweat and the pounding pulse of combat any day over the silence between stars.

Swirling winds whip sand across her face and body. It crunches in the joints between her armor and she hates the sound but it's easy to ignore as she slams another heat sink into her shotgun and charges into the last remaining crawler. It's thrown by the impact, the momentum of her body splits the carapace against her armored fist. The smell of viscera in the air, the humming of biotic barriers. Her body sings. She feels untouchable. The keystone slams the ground again.

The ground beneath her feet rumbles and she hears an unholy sound. A thresher maw. Her battle-lust is broken instantly and she snaps to attention, every sense laser focused.

Her shotgun and fists will be little help to them now. She exchanges glances with Grunt and Thane, waving them toward cover while she hunkers down on point, grenade launcher at the ready. It's not the biggest thresher maw she's ever seen but their size isn't the only thing that makes them dangerous. Positioning is critical when fighting something that can burrow and spit. Her combat HUD tracks its movements through the ground and she directs their movements, their gunfire to its next point of exposure.

But there's a problem. Her visor's sensitive electronics were never meant to be used in a sandstorm.

The maw dives again and this time the data is wrong, pinging across the arena, indicating wildly different trajectories that conflict with the laws of physics. Not great, but there's nothing she can do about it now. Adapt, improvise.

She tears the headset from her face and makes her best approximation of where it's going to appear next, signaling the team. They open fire, it dives again. Then the rumbling stops. Her best is not enough. There's a split second of silence before the beast bursts forth not twelve feet away from her position. Dust and debris erupt in a disorienting cloud and she can tell by the shadow cast over her that she's in deep shit, struggling to find her footing on the fractured, quaking ground.

A scorching heat envelops her and her vision goes dark. There's a shout in her comm, a weight pressed upon her, and the grenade launcher is wrenched from her hands.

Then a burst, an explosion, a blinding flash of light. Acid sizzles against her barrier and it pops, the sound rattling her ears in the darkness.

The orange sun of Tuchanka blinks back into existence as the dust begins to settle.

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Thane slumps into the stinking puddle of meat and organs, still clutching Shepard's grenade launcher. His scales are stinging and the pain is growing more intense by the second. Beside him, Shepard is calling in an evac while she rips at the panels of her hardsuit. Her under armor is a patchwork of holes beneath, and her skin is a frightening shade of red where the fabric is being eaten away. Thresher maw bile.

He's never actually seen a thresher maw before, much less fought one - he's more shaken than he would like to admit. Her voice is his anchor. By the time she's done shouting for Grunt to maintain a defensive position, she's torn the suit at the waist and stripped the top half from her body. She uses it to wipe the viscera from his head, chest, and hands before tending to herself.

Her ease of determination has him transfixed. He's trembling from their encounter, but Shepard- he's never seen her more focused. Brows knitted in concentration, voice firm, but calm. Her chest rises and falls with each measured breath. Wearing only her belt, legplates, and a black compression bra, she's slathering herself in medigei, a whirlwind of sand and dirt sticking to exposed burns across the hard expanse of her body.

Her skin is so vulnerable compare to his scales that she should be shrieking in pain. Instead, she seems completely unfazed. Adrenaline, perhaps. Or maybe she's every bit as otherworldly as he's coming to understand she is.

Their evac shuttle arrives and they pile on. Grunt is the first one to break the silence.

"Quick thinking back there, Krios."

Grunt looks at him with the same piercing gaze all krogan seem to have. Thane has always found them hard to read.

"Never thought I'd see a drell dive into the mouth of a thresher maw. You're tougher than you look."

He smiles, then. And Shepard smiles with him.

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Doctor's orders: 24 hours rest.

Shepard's armor clatters to the cabin floor and she strides into the bathroom, trying not to itch the scabs tightening over her skin. The burns are superficial - irritating, but not serious. In the mirror, they look worse than they feel. The sting is enough to drown out the other weird pains that live inside her reconstructed body. Her ears hurt. Her tear ducts feel swollen and pressurized. Her fingers are sore. There's a constant ache in her sternum and a soft wooshing in her ear. It's from her synthetic heart, and the abundance of blood it requires. But it means she'll heal faster, too.

The water hisses out of the showerhead and she sets to work cleaning the caked on grit and viscera from her skin. When she's focused on herself like this, it's hard not to think about all of the ways her body has changed.

On the SR1, she'd been in shape, perhaps even proud of her body. She'd thought of herself as a well oiled machine. She watched her nutrition carefully, spent just as much time honing nerves as she did strength and endurance. Her body, a product of her own work and service.

What she sees now is not what she remembers.

Notably, she's about 70 pounds heavier, almost exclusively due to her implants and the additional muscle she's put on to carry them. Adapting to the added weight of cybernetics and artificial bones had been an uphill battle since she rolled off that Cerberus operating table. Even her breasts are one cup size larger, and that one change carries perhaps the most bitterness. Her body is no longer her creation.

She sees herself as though through a stranger's eyes - a construct. The Commander they wanted. Not the woman she remembers.

Her new body is all about performance, both in the public eye and on the battlefield. Miranda had already told her she should be grateful for her various "upgrades." Her titanium fingers that never tremble, her artificial eyes that can see colors and details normal human's can't. Heightened olfaction, improved hearing, even joints with a higher range of motion.

A superhuman.

No, she corrects herself, with no small amount of vitriol.

A supersoldier.

The trouble is, being a soldier is what she wants. Control over her body is as much a necessity as a beating heart, and she demands it of herself every way she knows how. The problem isn't the upgrades. It's the autonomy ripped from her hands as soon as she was too dead to spit in their faces.

But this is the hand she's dealt, so she works with it, even if learning how to use her own body is still a learning curve. Testing her limits, evaluating response times, and sometimes... trying out shitty supplementary tech that can't stand up to a little bad weather.

Outside the bathroom door, the remnants of her visor are crumbled together next to her terminal. Thane had crushed it underfoot when he dove between her and the thresher maw. That split second confusion in the field could have cost her life if he hadn't intervened. She hadn't expected a lone wolf assassin to mesh so well with the team.

She towels off and stuffs her armor back in its locker. The automatic cleaning cycle hums to life, and her thoughts whirl with it.

Thane's opened up a bit more since the night they spoke about Alchera. He has a surprising way of coloring the air with his words. And, perhaps most alarmingly, the more time she spends with him, the time she wants to spend with him. She tries to chalk it up to regular team synchronicity, but there are moments she catches herself wondering him on more than just a professional level. Tiny curiosities slither into her brain. Does he kiss like humans do? The very notion warms her blood.

How long has it been since she'd kissed someone? It feels like a lifetime.

And then - just one impulsive little thought, summoning the things she's not even dared herself to think. Does he fuck like humans do?

Almost timidly, she allows her imagination to wander.

Greeting the morning together in the shuttle bay, the harsh fluorescent lights casting dramatic shadows over his body as he bends through another impossible stretch. All that tension coiled within him, the hard planes of his torso, those absolutely delicious ass-kicking thighs...

For a moment, she feels as though he's close enough to share his heat. There's an old, familiar warmth in her blood - exquisite, tiny shivers flickering just beneath her skin - arousal.

Her eyes drift closed. She owes her XO a mission debrief, and she owes her pilot new destination coordinates. But her blood is singing southward, throbbing between her legs, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine.

Maybe those obligations can wait a little bit longer.

Scooting up her unmade bed to rest against the headboard, she tentatively rests a hand against her belly and traces a line from her navel to the juncture of her legs, almost as if she's afraid of what she'll find. Her flesh is reassuringly warm, and she passes over her center, teasing and smoothing back over blood-warmed skin, testing its sensitivity. At least here, her body feels like she remembers.

Thane's unfamiliarity excites her. She's never spared much thought for bunking with another species before, but he's more than handsome. Shepard wonders if drell are as introverted as Thane. Likely not, but his guardedness only intensifies her intrigue. The idea of touching him seems forbidden, like a closely guarded secret. She wants to run her tongue over the darkened skin below his lower lip, wants to trace the ridges down the back of his neck and feel the warmth of the flushed skin at his throat.

Her mind fumbles with the thought of him, unclothed and willing. He could be any number of iridescent shades of green under that tight leather getup - by the tantalizing gradient of color across the firm swatch of his exposed chest, he must be. Those dark stripes down his shoulders are trails she's hungry to travel, winding paths across the exotic unknowns of his body. Her fingers itch to follow them wherever they lead - with any luck, all the way down.

And down to what, exactly? For a moment, Shepard considers pulling up the extranet to satiate her curiosity and then decides against it. If he's not biologically equipped the way she hopes, better to find out later, when she's not vividly imagining the shape and color of his erection. Maybe green? But then, he hopefully isn't packing scales down there. No, more likely a familiar blush of color, like the frills of at his neck, or the inside of his mouth.

Her fingers brush carefully over her clit at the thought of his mouth, those gorgeous clit-sucking lips. An excited chill zips down her spine, settling - picturing him in this exact spot, head bowed reverently between her legs to worship her with his tongue. It's been so fucking long since someone ate her out.

The memory is old and faded - breaking fraternization rules with a youthful dark-haired recruit in the barracks. They hadn't even finished basic yet. Shepard had come harder than ever before in her life, only to later discover that recruit had told nearly everyone that they'd hated every second of it. She wouldn't have been upset if Cerberus took that memory from her.

But there's something about Thane. He's nothing if not a gentleman, she likes to think he'd be wickedly good at this. Warm, firm lips, an agile tongue... those fused fingers edging her on.

She uses her own to test that hypothesis, biting her lip at the familiar slick of arousal concentrated in her core.

There was a time when she'd rather be incinerated than suffer gentle lovemaking. She wanted it hard and fast, pleasure so blindingly hot she'd sneak out to the airlock for a cigarette in the afterglow. But her new body is a labyrinth of unknowns. Sex in this new skin, not knowing her limits, how much she can take. She wants to take her time.

Middle finger first, then following with another, she tests her reconstruction. Maybe she's just imagining it, but she feels a bit stiffer than she remembers.

But in the blurry comfort of her fantasy, Thane is a gentle lover. He's slow and patient, giving her ample time to acclimate both her body and her racing thoughts. Her fingers slip inside as far as they'll reach, leaving her palm to flex against her clit. She sighs, luxuriating in sensation.

It feels so good to be touched.

It's been years, in fact, and the roaring flame of her lust is surprising even to herself. To have him here, moving inside her, filling her with every stroke...

When her hand curls against her inner walls, her eyes roll back and an unholy sound leave her throat. Holy shit. Either this is the pleasure time forgot, or Cerberus spared no expense reconstructing her nerve endings. It wipes every other thought from her mind.

She's lost in the fantasy now. Hopelessly spellbound beneath the roll of her own hand - Thane's hips - languidly pushing the heights of her pleasure in body and mind until she's deliberately edging her orgasm because it seems a damn shame to end it so fast. Her head is swimming, discomfort collecting dust in the rational corners of her brain until her nerves are burning with adrenaline and wanting. Scattered thoughts come in incoherent bursts. All that matters now is the caldera of pleasure between her legs. Her mind. His body.

She can almost feel his voice. The words are lost but the sensations are loud and clear, encircling her, flowing through her, filling her. She wants to feel his desire, wants him to come undone inside her, calling her name, riding the high of his climax and all but demanding she come with him. In her mind, they gasp together, his arms tightening around her, his face buried in her neck, her walls clenching around him.

The electricity of release pulses through her nerves - organic, synthesized, and everything in between. For one sweet second, she's weightless. Then the spots are clearing from her vision and she's floating down from whatever far flung corner of the galaxy her soul's been launched to.

In the silence that follows, the gentle hum of the ship is the only sound.

"Fuck," she breathes out into the empty room. He's gone. The reverie slowly evaporates, vanishing into the metal bulkheads of the hull.

The familiar guilt of indulgence tugs at the edges of her fading euphoria. She hadn't banked on masturbating to her crew, but here she is.

It's just a daydream, no harm done.

But as she gets dressed, she asks herself why it's been so long since anyone's crept into her mind like Thane.

Shepard shakes her head, straightening her back. A little movement to clear the errant thoughts trashing her rationality. Her scabs itch. Her mouth is dry. There are more important things to be doing. Things that will quiet the tiny voice in her head that whispers 'no one wants your weird cybernetic body.'

At least she can still show herself a good time. Small victories are perhaps even sweeter during wartime. Maybe she feels just a little more human than she did an hour before.

#shrios #spiritualshriossummer #thane krios #fshrios #spiritual shrios summer #zet writes things #me in the background screaming like that video of the old man in the mountains with the cowboy hat #ITT: femshep gets herself off #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer Prompt Fill - “Pray”

My second fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! At this point I can't look at it anymore or my eyes are going to fall out. I really wanted to get this right.

Rating: General Audiences - Safe for Work AO3 Link: "Your Gods are My Gods" - (Chapter 1) Note: Chapter 2 is identical, but with Male Shepard instead Pairing: Female Shepard / Thane Summary: Thane helps Shepard gear up in the minutes before the Omega 4 Relay, and offers a prayer for her protection.

If you would prefer Male Shepard / Thane, click here!

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Thane smiles at her, gracelessly pushing one leg into the underlayer of her hardsuit. It's strange to see her like this, hanging somewhere in the middle of a of transition between Shepard the woman, and Shepard the soldier. He crosses the room to help, offering an arm to lean on and holding the sleeves out for her to thread her arms into.

"Is it standard practice for Alliance soldiers to help their commanding officer dress before battle?" He asks with a smile.

Her answering laugh is a ray of light in the darkness before the storm. "Absolutely not." The zipper of her suit is still undone but she steps close and meets his eyes, arms threading around his waist. "But we aren't Alliance soldiers." A quick kiss on his cheek. "Lucky us. Fraternizing with a superior officer is grounds for dishonorable discharge."

He could melt into her embrace. Somewhere in the long hours between stars, they found each other. Their meeting had been professional, and he was unsurprised to find her coming to ask him questions about his illness and the mission. But somehow, little by little, he met the Commander, then the soldier, and then... her. The woman, the human, the person - Shepard - surprising him at every turn.

She listens with her full attention, interjecting her own thoughts and validations as he damn near gushes about his dogma, his gods... his wife and son, his hurts and regrets. At times when the night cycle drags on, she retires to her cabin only to ping him on his comm. By the time they're ready for the mission they've been training for, it feels like he has known her for a lifetime. He still doesn't understand why it's her that brings out the conversationalist in him. Maybe no one else had wanted to listen. Maybe he'd never given anyone else a chance.

"If faith is your pillar of strength... then your gods are my gods."

Those words echo in his mind, warming him to his bones. She isn't exceptionally spiritual, but she listens and receives him without question or judgement. The kindness in her makes his heart swell, standing together, assassin and commander, in the cool quiet of Shepard's cabin.

"Shepard, if you will permit me," he says hesitantly, "I'd like to offer you a prayer."

"A prayer?" That smile again - corners of her mouth tugging upward, lifting his spirits despite the oppressing anticipation of battle. "I'd be honored."

Shepard touches her forehead to his and he takes the zipper of her undersuit, slowly dragging it upward, watching it close over her skin. In his mind, the fabric is the armor of her spirit and he is welding it closed. Eyes sliding shut, he makes his hushed call to the goddess of protection.

"Mother Arashu, I ask protection for your daughter,"

The zipper slides closed in the hollow of her throat and he kneels before her, sliding her feet one at a time into her boots, sealing her greaves around her calves. The material is scuffed from use but sturdy and lightweight. He feels the muscle tensing beneath each piece, compressing, relaxing, gently forming into the confines of each specialty fabricated stim plate and shock absorber. Her armor is as much for her enhancement as it is for her protection, and later he will watch her legs propel her across the battlefield with inhuman speed, dodging enemy fire, weaving in and combat as she was born to do.

"Repel the evils that would harm her,"

Scaled hands run over her knees and thighs. She pulls her cuisses from her locker and holds each one steady for him to clamp reverently around her thighs. Straps thread around her legs, he takes care not to make them too tight. A full body hardsuit is impractical - she needs unrestricted movement to meet the demands of combat, but he hates himself for knowing how vulnerable she is with merely flexible kinetic weaves to protect her femoral arteries. He presses a kiss below her navel as he rises from his knees, palms gliding up her sides, pausing again to kiss above her heart.

"Be her shield and sword of flame,"

She holds her hair up as he fits her gorget around her neck. It supports the heaviest and most reinforced part of her armor - segmented carbon and titanium plates that hug the curve of her back all the way down to the base where it connects to her cuisses. She checks to make sure it's properly fitted and connected. It has to be - one stray shot is all it would take to sever her spine. She sighs and stretches upwards as it clicks into place, plates moving fluidly against her back.

"None shall come to hurt or maim,"

Thane's thumb passes over the embossed N7 symbol over the right breast of her curiass before he lowers the unit over her head. Custom fabricated seals meet at her sides, hissing closed and tightening around her ribcage like a glove. Reinforced joints over her breastbone and collar allow it to expand and contract with each of her steady breaths and flat plates against her abdomen stiffen her posture. Shepard guides his hand to the seal just below the collar of her chestplate and when he presses it, the onboard electronics sputter to life, lights flickering on and fans humming in the dim silence of her cabin. She almost seems taller now, calmer; the soft creature he'd lain with just an hour ago safely encased in the familiar armaments that have carried her through battle after battle.

He can't help but embrace her, forehead meeting hers with eyes closed. Her measured breathing steels his nerves and deepens his understanding of her as a solider - why so many, himself included, have unwaveringly sworn wage war against impossible odds with her at their side. Tonight, he may die for her cause, but it would be his privilege to die by her side - his warrior angel. His Siha.

"Let her be an impenetrable wall,"

She kisses his cheek as his arms enfold her, attaching her belt. It clamps around her waist, arcing over her hips. Pivoting hinges hang over her hipbones, catching easily on her cuisses to form one complete unit - a clean design that conserves her mobility while protecting her soft waist... where his hands had clung not long ago, when they were as one. He clicks the assembly together just below her navel, and his prayer continues.

"She will be a shield for all,"

There's nearly a tangle of straps that meet over her shoulders. Jointed pauldrons click into place where they intersect with her chestplate supports. With her curiass attached, these are automated, designed to be quickly donned without assistance, software tightening each strap to preset customizations. Around her biceps, forearms, and hands, each vambrace is a fully contained set of panels and joints. He kisses each gloved palm as he draws the seals closed one at a time. She is nearly complete.

"Great Arashu, lend your power,"

Their lips meet one final time in a chase kiss. Thane gently tucks her hair behind an ear, drawing her visor around her forehead in an upward, unpowered position. He etches her eyes into his memory before they nearly disappear behind her combat HUD.

"Keep her safe in this final hour."

She is in his arms for a few precious seconds and they breathe together as one. Her voice is a mere whisper: "Thank you." It's not goodbye, but... "May Arashu protect you this night and every night."

It's time to go.

Their hands lock together as the elevator descends to the CIC.

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Thanks for reading! If you like creating shrios content, please consider participating in the summer challenge!

My previous fill: "Secrets in the Steam" (AO3) - Note the rating before proceeding.

#thane krios #shrios #fshrios #zet writes things #spiritual shrios summer #spiritualshriossummer

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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill: Godless

PROMPT WORD: GODLESS | WORDS: ~1800

Rated: "G" - General Audiences AO3 Link: "The Frozen Sea" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: The ocean licks at her knees - not to claim her, but to mark her. 'One foot in the grave,' as the human adage goes.

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Shepard looks forward to being the first one up and awake.

Her cabin is suffocating. There are nights when she appreciates the privacy, but the silence of her isolated quarters makes her insides itch in an uncomfortable way. Just before the common area lighting begins to grow from the dim cadence of the night cycle, she leaves her room and greets the morning, intangible as only time on a starship can be. First she checks on the night crew, then starts coffee for Gardener. Finally, she makes her way down to the shuttle bay for PT. Alone.

It's unexpected when she has a visitor one quiet morning.

"Sere Krios," she says, rising from a deep stretch on the mat.

He smiles warmly, equally as surprised to see another soul at this hour. "Commander, good morning. And please, just Thane if you wouldn't mind."

Thane is the newest member of her crew and they've only spoken twice before. Maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise that he has his daily rituals as well, given his condition. He's dressed simply. Black pants, a sleeveless shirt, his defined, green chest exposed for all the world. Drell and humans share some attractive qualities. He's easy on the eyes.

She's staring, she realizes, and looks away. Thane takes his place on the mat and begins his own warm-up.

Day after day, he joins her, and they build a routine. Together, they begin with stiff, groggy stretches; then there's cardio, sweat, and strength training. Their conversations are light and technical. He respects her silence. She respects his discipline. On leg day, they limp back into the elevator in tandem. If she's lucky, she has time to join him and the crew for breakfast after her shower.

When she's alone, she quietly recalls how the light bends around the contours of his body.

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He's there as usual when she steps off the elevator and into the shuttle bay. Fully armored, helmet under one arm, weapons holstered, but ready.

"Shepard. No training today?" He rises from his place on the mat where he's been exploring the human practice of yoga, per her suggestion. It suits him. Yoga is all about breathing.

"I was beginning to think you tired of my company."

She gives him a weary smile and shakes her head.

There's a new, abnormal tension between them and by his gaze she knows he feels it too. She likes Thane. She knows hardly a damn thing about him, but he's a comfortable presence, follows orders... doesn't ask intrusive questions. However, she's breaking their routine unexpectedly, and in the moment, his gaze is almost painful.

"Is there something I should know about Alchera?"

Okay, maybe he does ask intrusive questions.

His voice is a hot knife through her muddy thoughts. The detour to Alchera hadn't been on their flight plan, but somehow, he knows. Times like this, his eidetic memory puts her on edge. She asks herself how many other kernels of obscure knowledge are locked away in his mind.

Stepping up to prep the shuttle, she weighs the consequences of lying to his face. Only six people on the ship know where she's going and why, and she doesn't want to talk about it with any of them. The words are too hard to say out loud. This is where I died.

"Alliance HR," she says finally. A partial truth.

His brows rise and his posture straightens just a bit. "Human remains." Fuck if he isn't perceptive, but if he has questions, he keeps them to himself.

She nods once, happy to have stopped this conversation in its tracks. Then she changes the subject.

"PT tomorrow," she offers with a smile. "I can't be lifting without my spotter."

"Of course, Shepard. The pleasure is mine," he responds with an acknowledging nod. She feels bad for interrupting his training as he leaves on the elevator, but she doesn't want to face her team until her task is done.

Let's just get this over with.

Alone with her thoughts, she exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding and starts her pre-flight checklist.

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It's well past dinner when she comes to him. The doors at his back swish open and she stands quietly inside the threshold. A fistful of clinking metal dangles from her hand and he knows she's come to have the conversation she avoided earlier.

"Did I catch you at a good time?"

"You did," he says smoothly. "Was there something you wanted to discuss?"

She sits across from him and the metal spills from her fist. Dog tags. Twenty of them. Her gaze is fixed on them and she appears shrouded in a fog of thoughts.

"Did you know them?" The question is gentle, he's almost afraid to know the answer.

Shepard takes a deep breath and blinks slowly. "Yeah. They were my crew."

Thane can feel a chill, as though the icy surface of the planet is still clinging to her long after she's left it. "Your ship went down on Alchera?"

She nods.

"...and you were among them."

"Yes."

He realizes now why she brushed off his words earlier. It strikes him as odd that she would bring this to him instead of Garrus, Tali, Joker, or Chakwas. All of them served on that ship with her, although he isn't sure if they were on board during the attack. She chose him for this, maybe because he'd asked, unknowingly, down in the shuttle bay. Regardless, she's here now and he struggles to understand her needs.

Thane refocuses. There's a pile of dog tags before him and each one represents a human life, now in the arms of Kalahira.

"May I read them?"

She glances up at him then, surprised. "Won't you remember them forever?"

"I'd like to."

Her lips twitch just slightly in the most cautious of smiles, and she nods. "Knock yourself out," a quietly uttered and somehow charming human expression.

Thane picks up each tag one by one and passes his eyes over them. Every name, a life extinguished. Stories unfinished. Loved ones mourning for years without closure or a body to bury. Memories percolate in his mind and he pushes them back because now is not the time. For each name, he offers a silent prayer to the goddess for their eternal peace. When he finishes, the tags are a neat horizontal stack before them.

Hands folded, he looks at her. "I don't see your name."

It's less of a question and more of an observation, but she dips one hand into her shirt collar and produces a pair of clinking metal tags. They dangle from a new chain but the metal scorched and scuffed almost to a state of illegibility. One from the Alliance, the other from the Spectres. Her name is heavily embossed into each one.

SHEPARD DECEMBER HUMAN SYSTEMS ALLIANCE

His expression lifts and he smiles, hopeful. "You survived."

Shepard shakes her head. "I was spaced."

"But you must have-"

"No, Thane." Her tone is firm, unwavering. "I was spaced."

Her intense green eyes pierce through him. There's a twinge in her voice that makes his insides clench. "I read the data on Project Lazarus. I died."

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Thane tries to control his features but her assertion shakes the very foundations of his faith. Many had said she died, but he'd always understood it as a metaphor - a near death experience.

He reaches into himself for calm and a memory rises, unbidden. "Jesus and Lazarus, from the Christian bible. '...I am the resurrection and the life.'"

"Kalahira..." he breathes. "Shepard, I didn't know."

She grunts out an ugly, short laugh and tears her eyes from his. "I can't believe you read the bible."

Her words fly past him without acknowledgement. He sees her as though through fogged glass, thoughts spinning. "Kalahira released you from the sea." When the words leave his mouth, they sound like irrefutable truth.

There's silence while she fidgets across from him, and then she asks, "Do humans go to the sea too?"

"We believe all life does."

He has a thought, then. "What do you believe, Shepard?

Her expression is mildly uncomfortable. "Before or after I died?" But then she shakes her head, reconsidering. "The universe is grand enough that maybe it is god's design. But I don't think god gives a damn about us. Agnostic, I guess." Shepard pauses and looks at him, but her eyes are distant. "Maybe I'd like to believe in your sea. Right now it feels easier to accept."

"To bring comfort in dark places is the purpose of spirituality. It does not matter what you believe as long as it brings you peace."

"Some humans would disagree with you."

Aware of the myriad of human religions and their conflicts, he brushes off her statement. "This is my truth. Their opinions don't concern me."

Shepard's gaze is searching, revealing the cracks in her armor, slivers of well-hidden vulnerability. "So I went to the sea. And now I'm back."

"If I am to accept what you say, I can offer no other conclusion." He doesn't ask what she remembers, he knows he might not like the answer.

"Then what am I now? Besides a soggy, undead cyborg?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm but Thane thinks over her question carefully, aware he will be turning it over in his mind for days to come. Kalahira, Irikah, Siha, the gods and their angels, his lover and confidant, memories and oaths... regrets and comforts.

A heavy veil of epiphany descends on him, awestruck, painfully aware of his mortality, and prickling with a primal, deeply buried fear. Once human and now something in between, she is Commander Shepard, avatar of the Sea, chosen of Kalahira. The ocean licks at her knees not to claim her, but to mark her. 'One foot in the grave,' as the human adage goes.

The fist of tension in his gut calls to mind the image of Irikah's eyes in his scope all those years ago. I thought she was the goddess Arashu. But it's not Arashu who sits before him now, but Kalahira. Her icy breath howls across the inhospitable surface of Alchera, her unfathomable currents gathering those courageous enough to follow her into the abyss. How appropriate that she appeared just as he sought his demise in the Dantius Towers. She will be the one to ferry him into the unknown when they finally breach the relay. He prays she will be merciful.

Placing one hand over hers, Thane squeezes reassuringly. He doesn't linger, the gesture is as much for him as it is for her; he wants to know that she is real, as he finally answers her question.

'Then what am I now?'

"A woman with a purpose so great, the goddess herself answered the galaxy's cry for your return."

#spiritualshriossummer #thane krios #shrios #fshrios #zet writes things #december shepard #for now i'm calling the series 'approaching lightspeed' after a song i really like #spiritual shrios summer #this is one of several tricky conversations i need to write #and its probably the easiest one too so i have my work cut out for me x-x #TLDR shepard is a soggy undead cyborg

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zet-sway · 3 years

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Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill - “Caress"

My third fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! I wanted a happy ending for these lovebirds, so pardon my AU. I slammed down the rough draft while vibing hard to Hozier and Ed Sheeran.

PROMPT WORD: CARESS | WORDS: 2246 Rated: "S" for "Soft & Spicy" AO3 Link: "Safe, Warm, and Whole" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Setting: Recently Post-War, Thane Survives AU Summary: "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen.

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The soft chill of night air filtered through the open window in their shared flat as Shepard stepped out of the bathroom on sore, aching feet. Fresh from a cold shower, shoulders dropped with fatigue, she managed a smile at him across the room. Thane looked up from his reading. "Siha, how are you feeling?" "Exhausted." She looked it, too. Ever since the war had ended, combat seemed to always take a heavier toll on her body. Her armor powered her through the field, but in their private quarters, she carried herself on tired legs, fresh bruises peeking out from beneath her shirtsleeves. He would kiss them away if he could. Thane stood and guided her into his arms. "Come to bed with me. I think you've earned a good rest." Their flat - if it could even be called a flat - was barebones, no better than any military dormitory she's ever stayed in. White walls, cold floor tiles, and almost no décor to speak of. It was clean, at least. Six months since the war had ended, humanity had made little to no progress reclaiming the comforts they'd enjoyed before the reapers. Still, some inspired soldier had managed to requisition an old bed that was bigger than the standard issue Alliance bunk size - a gift for the legend herself, and her partner. He eased her down onto the sheets with steady arms. "It's too quiet in here," Shepard groaned as she laid down. "I'm sure the Alliance would be willing to relocate us to one of the orbital stations," he said, undressing before joining her in bed. She made an annoyed sound. "They need me here." It was mostly true. The alliance was still uncovering disorganized pockets of reaper forces, most of them in the underground byways of urban centers. It's what she spent her days doing. Strapping on the same old armor and delving into close quarters to fight cannibals, brutes, and whatever other monsters lurked in the dark. He wanted so badly for her to rest, but she wouldn't have it. The three months she spent held up in the field hospital were agony for her, and not simply because she was in pain. That restless mind, her patchwork cybernetic body giving her inhuman reserves of energy that her organic parts simply couldn't keep pace with. Even the Alliance had tried to offer her diplomatic work - something she had laughed off. "Come back when you're ready to let me do my job." Still, Shepard found planetside silence deafening. Sleep was harder to claim without the white noise of a cruiser. She talked often of the thrumming of engines on ships she'd lived on for most of her life. Thane himself rather enjoyed the quiet sounds of Earth, but it didn't much matter to him where they were. As long as she came home to him at night. "What will you do once the ground work is complete?" he said, settling in beside her. "I can't fucking wait," came her muffled response, face stuffed into a pillow. "Maybe then we can get back into space. Help with the Citadel reclamation." She turned to look at him then, squinting against the light on his nightstand. "If that's okay with you." "My love," he said, switching off the light and kissing her forehead, "I would follow you to the edge of the world if you'll have me." She swatted at him weakly. "You're sickeningly sweet." Thane's face contorted in an exaggerated frown, but his voice betrayed his mirth. "I make you sick?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." "I love you too, Siha," he chuckled, and gathered her into his arms. Indeed it had taken him a little while to get used to living with humans and their ample use of sarcasm, but he did understand her. By now he had long since stopped using his translator. Earth was becoming more familiar to him by the day, and he was surprised to find so many humans eager for his help. That he wasn't Alliance didn't seem important when so much needed doing. When he refused to leave her hospital bedside, they busied him with menial tasks around the infirmary and he was surprised to find he enjoyed the small role he had in healing the injured. Most of all, he thanked Arashu each and every day for her unbelievable

blessing, to have Shepard here, curling into his chest, safe, warm, and whole. She wriggled against him, humming quietly as she found a more favorable position with her knee over his and her face in the warm velvety frill of his neck. Soft breaths rolled over him and he trilled in response, the sound vibrating in his chest. They fit together so seamlessly that he could never be sure if she teased him like this deliberately or simply out of comfort, but warmth of her breath over his throat made his body stir in irresponsible ways, considering her state of fatigue. With some amount of guilt, he shifted away from her. She reacted, her arm tightened about his waist to press him close and this time she did it on purpose, gentle lips kissing his throat once, then twice with an open mouth, with a small hum of satisfaction. Her intentions were loud and clear. "I thought you were exhausted," he mused into her hair. Ambient light from outside spilled through their open window and illuminated her in the dreamy shades of nighttime. Her eyes were closed, body tucked tight against him. Like holding the entire world in his arms, he swelled with adoration. "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen. "Mm," he pretended to consider, knowing exactly what she wanted. "I may be able to help. What do you require?" It would be a cold day in hell when he was too tired for her. She kissed his neck again, her palm flattening against the small of his back and dragging it slowly over his backside. "Touch me," she whispered. Warmth bloomed in his chest, the heat of desire washing over him. "It would be my pleasure," he rumbled. Slowly, he pushed her shorts off her hips and eased her on to her back. Eyes closed, licking her lips in contented anticipation, he watched her chest rise and fall with each contented breath. Hands slid across her belly, easing her t-shirt up over her head and she accommodated him, rising just enough to pull it off and flicking it lazily on to the other side of the bed. Relaxed as he'd ever seen, her undressed body laid before him, dotted with scars and stories he knew so well. He pulled himself over her, meeting her lips in an unhurried kiss. She stretched against him, warming beneath his body, hands wandering across the defined lines of his shoulders and spine as though she knew his stripes by memory alone. He gathered her breasts together from where they rolled to her sides and gazed up at her face as he kissed the deliciously soft valley between them. Thumbs running over each hardening peak, he watched her expression as he teased her if only just to see the gleaming edges of her teeth drawing her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed her flesh gently, closing his lips over first one nipple, then the other. She arched up to meet his eager tongue, heavy breaths rushing from her lungs as though the pressure of his hands drove the air from her body. Beneath him, he could feel her core flex with each flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers "Fuck," she moaned. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving against his hands as he stoked her lust from a smolder to an irresistible flame. His gentle mouth began to work its way down across the hard plane of her abdomen. Beneath the scent of standard issue soap, he could smell the salt of her skin, pausing to place an appreciative kiss atop her mound before his hands curled around the juncture of her hips. Her breathing was ragged as his thumbs parted her eager, heated flesh for his appreciation. The first time they'd done this he'd had to talk her down from her insecurities. The memory made him feel possessive, nearly angered by the notion that some other man had turned down privilege of knowing her this way. Thane let his breath ghost over her glistening center, thumbs dragging firmly up and down her folds just to hear her moan for him. The urge

to tease her was irresistible. It was with a knowing smirk that he finally bent his mouth to her, tasting her earthy, salty flesh - her hitched gasps like music to his ears. She told him once that he put human lovers to shame, and he was proud - perhaps the only man in existence who pried the secrets of her pleasure straight from her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her simply because he'd asked. The sounds she made when he laved his tongue over her clit were low and resounding reminders of how painfully hard he was in his shorts. Her fingertips trailed along his sensitive jaw, feeling him work as he ate her greedily. "Don't stop," she whispered. He grinned against her sex, teasing her entrance with two fused fingers, pushing slowly inside her heat only to brush against her center and slip out, again and again. Patiently, he devoured her, walking her closer to the edge one searing second at a time until her head was thrown back, her spine arched off the bed, fingers trembling against his scalp. He loved this. Every time he went down on her his mind trailed over every single time previous - recalling the exact intonation of her voice, the press of her hands, the way she tensed her thighs as she neared the peak of her pleasure. By now, he could tell precisely when to set her off. He edged her for a few seconds longer. She was close, so close. She came with a shout, her clutching fingers carefully telegraphing how long he could continue to draw out her climax before she trembled and sagged, clenching her oversensitive flesh away from his hungry mouth. "Holy shit, Thane," she gasped, heaving for breath and sprawling against the mattress. He climbed atop her and she kissed him without hesitation and he growled - he couldn't deny he found it irrefutably erotic how she cleaned the taste of herself off his lips. Clumsy hands fumbled at his shorts, stroking his burning length, urging him to bring it to her lips. Maybe another night - he thought. Right now he burned to bury himself inside her. He felt her tense in anticipation, her eyes cracked open and gleaming in the moonlight, slowly blinking up at him with a look so unguarded he could have wept. She guided him to her slick entrance and he slowly pushed inside, groaning as her hungry, supple flesh tempted him into her scorching depths and at last, he hilted inside her. He set a languid pace, cradling her hips in his hands, searching for the perfect angle to make her see the stars she missed so dearly behind her closed eyes. With her core hypersensitive in the glow of her climax, she clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the scales of his back with such force he thought for sure they would be discolored before long. He didn't care. Becoming one with her, seeing her completely blissed out by each roll of his hips and knowing he could make her feel this way made him shake with wanting. He covered her with his body, ravishing her lips against pleasured cries that came so resoundingly he was sure to hear "who was getting lucky last night?" in the morning. He belonged to her - this night and as many nights as she wanted him. She made him delirious in her pleasure. Her body demanded his release. Held within her wanting arms, he finally succumbed with a hoarse, drawn out cry. For seconds he was infinite, a whirlwind of white hot ecstasy fraying him apart until he found his sweetest end in her embrace. And then there was nothing but her and the caress of crisp, evening air wafting over him. A gift from the earth to bless their joining. He shivered with the aftershocks. Soft hands trailed down his back. He didn't know how long they remained before separating. In the afterglow, memories overtook him easily. Vivid remembrances of Irikah and Shepard tumbled together and he slipped in and out of them like the rolling of coastal waters. It was difficult to rationalize how he could deserve either of them, what he could have done to earn the love of the fierce and cosmic women who touched his heart. But as Shepard's breathing slowed from heavy to peaceful beside him,

his doubts were pushed aside. Arashu herself had sent him a divine protector, and he would not refuse her gifts. "You're the best," she murmured against him, and he could hear the daze of sleep trailing her gentle voice. Just a sigh of breath as she tucked her head against his chest and whispered:

"I love you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thanks for reading!

If you like creating shrios content, you're welcome to hop on board the challenge! My previous fills [AO3]:

Secrets in the Steam [Prompt: Wet]

Your Gods are My Gods [Prompt: Pray]

#spiritual shrios summer #shrios #thane krios #fshrios #zet writes things #*smooshes face on keyboard* o boi i am in deep #spiritualshriossummer

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zet-sway · 3 years

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MShep/Thane Spiritual Shrios Summer Prompt Fill - “Pray”

My second fill for rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! At this point I can't look at it anymore or my eyes are going to fall out. I really wanted to get this right.

Rating: General Audiences - Safe for Work AO3 Link: "Your Gods are My Gods" - (Chapter 2) Note: Chapter 1 is identical, but with Female Shepard instead Pairing: Male Shepard / Thane Summary: Thane helps Shepard gear up in the minutes before the Omega 4 Relay, and offers a prayer for his protection.

If you would prefer Female Shepard / Thane, click here!

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Thane smiles at the Commander, watching him gracelessly pushing one leg into the underlayer of his hardsuit. It's strange to see him like this, hanging somewhere in the middle of a of transition between Shepard the man, and Shepard the soldier. He crosses the room to help, offering an arm to lean on and holding the sleeves out for him to thread his arms into.

"Is it standard practice for Alliance soldiers to help their commanding officer dress before battle?" Thane says with a smile.

Shepard's answering laugh is a ray of light in the darkness before the storm. "Absolutely not." The zipper of his suit is still undone but he steps close and meets Thane's eyes, arms threading around his waist. "But we aren't Alliance soldiers." A quick kiss on his cheek. "Lucky us. Fraternizing with a superior officer is grounds for dishonorable discharge."

He could melt into Shepard's embrace. Somewhere in the long hours between stars, they found each other. Their meeting had been professional, and he was unsurprised to find him coming to ask him questions about his illness and the mission. But somehow, little by little, he met the Commander, then the soldier, and then... him. The man, the human, the person - Shepard - surprising him at every turn.

He listens with full attention, interjecting his own thoughts and validations as Thane damn near gushes about his dogma, his gods... Irikah and Kolyat, his hurts and regrets. At times when the night cycle drags on, he retires to his cabin only to ping him on his comm and continue their conversations. By the time they're ready for the mission they've been training for, it feels like he has known him for a lifetime. He still doesn't understand why it's Shepard that brings out the conversationalist in him. Maybe no one else had wanted to listen. Maybe he'd never given anyone else a chance.

"If faith is your pillar of strength... then your gods are my gods."

Those words echo in Thane's mind, warming him to his bones. Shepard isn't exceptionally spiritual, but he listens and receives him without question or judgement. The kindness in him makes his heart swell, standing together, assassin and commander, in the cool quiet of Shepard's cabin.

"Siha, if you will permit me," he says hesitantly, "I'd like to offer you a prayer."

"A prayer?" That smile again - corners of his mouth tugging upward, lifting Thane's spirits despite the looming anticipation of battle. "I'd be honored."

Their foreheads meet as Thane takes the zipper of the Commander's undersuit, slowly dragging it upward, watching it close over his skin. In his mind, the fabric is the armor of his spirit and he is welding it closed. Eyes sliding shut, he makes his hushed call to the goddess of protection.

"Mother Arashu, I ask protection for your chosen,"

The zipper slides closed in the hollow of Shepard's throat and he kneels to help his feet one at a time into weathered but sturdy boots, sealing the greaves around his calves. Thane feels the muscle tensing beneath each piece, compressing, relaxing, gently forming into the confines of each specialty fabricated stim plate and shock absorber. The armor is as much for enhancement as it is for protection, and later Thane will watch those armored legs propel him across the battlefield with inhuman speed, dodging enemy fire, weaving in and combat as Shepard was born to do.

"Repel the evils that would harm him,"

Scaled hands run over knees and thighs. Shepard pulls his cuisses from their locker and holds each one steady for him to clamp reverently around his thighs. Straps thread around his legs, Thane takes care not to make them too tight. A full body hardsuit is impractical - Shepard needs unrestricted movement to meet the demands of the battle, but Thane hates himself for knowing the vulnerability of mere flexible kinetic weaves to protect the Commander's femoral arteries. He presses a kiss below his navel as he rises from his knees, palms gliding up, pausing again to kiss above his heart.

"Be his shield and sword of flame,"

Shepard stands unmoving as Thane fits the gorget around his neck. It supports the heaviest and most reinforced part of his armor - segmented carbon and titanium plates that hug the curve of his back all the way down to the base where it connects to his cuisses. Shepard checks to make sure it's properly fitted and connected. It has to be - one stray shot is all it would take to sever his spine. He sighs and stretches upwards as it clicks into place, plates moving fluidly against his back.

"None shall come to hurt or maim,"

Thane's thumb passes over the embossed N7 symbol over the right breast of Shepard's curiass before he lowers the unit over his head. Custom fabricated seals meet at both sides of his broad chest, hissing closed and tightening around his ribcage like a glove. Reinforced joints over the breastbone and collar allow it to expand and contract with each of his steady breaths, and flat plates against his abdomen stiffen his posture. Shepard guides Thane's hand to the seal just below the collar of the chestplate and when he presses it, the onboard electronics sputter to life, lights flickering on and fans humming in the dim silence of the cabin. He almost seems taller now, calmer; the soft creature he'd lain with just an hour ago safely encased in the familiar armaments that have carried him through battle after battle.

Thane can't help but embrace him, foreheads touching with eyes closed. The Commander's measured breathing steels his nerves and deepens his understanding of him as a solider - why so many, himself included, have unwaveringly sworn wage war against impossible odds with him at their side. Tonight, he may die for Shepard's cause, but it would be his privilege to die by his side - his warrior angel. His Siha.

"Let him be an impenetrable wall,"

Shepard sighs quietly as Thane's arms enfold him, attaching his belt. It clamps around his waist, arcing over his hips. Pivoting hinges hang over his hipbones, catching easily on his cuisses to form one complete unit - a clean design that conserves mobility while protecting his soft waist... where Thane's hands had clung not long ago, when they were as one. The assembly clicks shut just below his navel, and the prayer continues.

"He will be a shield for all,"

There's nearly a tangle of straps that meet over Shepard's shoulders. Jointed pauldrons click into place where they intersect with the chestplate supports. With the curiass attached, these are automated, designed to be quickly donned without assistance, software tightening each strap to preset customizations. Around his biceps, forearms, and hands, each vambrace is a fully contained set of panels and joints. Thane kisses each gloved palm as he draws the seals closed one at a time. He is nearly complete.

"Great Arashu, lend your power,"

Their lips meet one final time in a chase kiss. Thane gently runs his fingers along Shepard's scruffed jaw before drawing the visor around his forehead in an upward, unpowered position. He etches those eyes into his memory before they nearly disappear behind the combat HUD.

"Keep him safe in this final hour."

Shepard is in his arms for a few precious seconds and they breathe together in time. The Commander's voice is a mere whisper: "Thank you." It's not goodbye, but... "May Arashu protect you, this night and every night."

It's time to go.

Their hands lock together as the elevator descends to the CIC.

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