Recon missions were probably Shepard’s least favorite type of military operations. Not because they were overly difficult or strenuous— they could be. They carried the same risks that loomed over all other missions, but that wasn’t the reason she detested them so much. No, it was because they could lull even the most alert and capable soldiers into a comfortable, almost hypnotic state of lethargy after hours of inactivity. They had a habit of being downright boring, and with the restless weariness came the sense of being pulled into a false sense of security.
Which was precisely what happened.
It was Legion who detected the ambush, alerting Shepard and Garrus seconds before it happened, and it was Legion who took a cheap enemy shot. His shields flickered, but artificial agility allowed him to roll into cover faster than Shepard, who haphazardly dived behind him. Between bouts of returning fire, she spared a glance at the geth, grateful for the absence of white conductive fluid; the projectile must’ve just grazed his metallic casing.
Relief washed over Shepard.
She hated it when her squad took fire, hated it even more when they got hurt. Legion, unsurprisingly, took more hits than most aboard the Normandy. Geth carried a universal hatred and were too good of a target for most mercenaries to pass up.
Shepard could personally attest to that.
The firefight was quick, and they made it out of the skirmish relatively unscathed. The mercenaries, while having the element of surprise, didn’t possess the proper skill set to back up their timely advantage. Soon they were either dead, or retreating. The ride back to the Normandy was uneventful, and once the mission report was processed, Shepard found herself walking to the AI Core.
“How’re you feeling?” Shepard greeted once inside the small, dark server room. Legion’s back was to the door, analyzing something laid out on the metal table.
“Geth do not feel pain, or discomfort as organics do.” Legion answered in the literal fashion so typical of his speech patterns.
“That may be, but that looked pretty damn close to a headshot,” Shepard accused, and it was right about that time that Legion turned his head. His single optical lens flickered bright, then dimmed to almost zero illumination in quick repetition. He gave his cranium a sharp, bothered jerk as though trying to adjust some broken component internally. The optic stayed dark.
“I knew that mark hit you,” she said, stepping closer to assess the damage. There were a few discarded tools on the table, none of them looking quite right for the job. “You don’t need to do a sloppy field-repair, Legion.” Shepard tapped her old, mangled N7 armor on Legion’s arm for emphasis. “I can help you with this.”
Legion was markedly quick to accept her offer. “While we are able to make necessary adjustments to this platform, your assistance would hasten the repair to optimal performance. Creator Tali’Zorah may have the tool that will allow ease of access into our ocular lens.”
Shepard nodded, leaving to complete her errand. “I’ll be right back.”
When Shepard entered Engineering, Tali spun to face her with a graceful swing of her wide hips. “Shepard!” Her tone and disposition were cheerful, and Shepard knew that she was about to personally change that. The quarian made it no secret about how she felt about having an active geth on the ship.
“I offered to help Legion with a repair,” Shepard explained. “He said you might have the tool I needed.”
Tali crossed her arms, demeanor suddenly aggravated, as Shepard knew it would be.
“It, Shepard,” scolded Tali. “Not he.”
Shepard ignored her comment, finding it to be somewhat ignorant. As far as she could tell, Legion definitely seemed male— at the very least sounded male, with an undeniably masculine build.
“Anyway,” Tali continued dismissively. “I don’t have the right tools to fix that gaping hole in its chest.”
Shepard shook her head. “I just need something to help reconnect his optics.” She was no engineer but knew a thing or two about technical repairs.
Tali sighed, fingers drumming impatiently along the inside of her arm. Shepard could see her own reflection in the polished material of the quarian’s helmet— she felt Tali’s disapproval burning through the glass enclosure. Shepard met her silent criticism with an icy glare. Never to lose a staring match, Tali finally turned away from Shepard to rummage through a pile of tools. After a moment, she procured a small, though specialized multi-tool. “This should do the trick,” Tali said, handing it to Shepard. “Just go in through the back of the panel on its head. Give the cord a little twist. If that doesn’t do it, check the bulb.”
Shepard nodded her thanks. “I’ll make sure he knows you helped,” she teased, right before exiting.
“Please, don’t bother,” Tali muttered as the door slid shut with a cold, machinal hiss.
While returning to the AI Core, Shepard took a moment to ponder Tali and her animosity towards their resident geth. She perfectly understood Tali’s weariness of Legion’s presence and even could sympathize with her hostility to an extent. The number of geth that Shepard personally killed over the years was innumerable. But Legion wasn’t anything like those geth— it was obvious through both his words and actions. His personality even— a strange blend of sarcasm and curiosity. Legion had a certain unfiltered commentary for everything, and opinions that Shepard appreciated for their bluntness. She enjoyed his company, and more often than not, sought it out at the ends of her rounds.
And, there was a part of her that felt as if she could relate to him. Since her resurrection she’d felt less than human thanks to the plethora of Cerberus issued augmentations that now weaved through her skeletal, circulatory, and nervous systems. It was difficult to feel like anything other than an outsider at times, even amongst her most trusted associates.
Legion was right where she’d left him. “Shepard-Commander.”
She held up the acquired multi-tool. “Got it.”
“Acknowledged. The Consensus has judged you a trustworthy ally to the geth, and will upload a beneficial schematic to your omni-tool to aid with restoration.” He lowered his head, readying himself to be fixed while accommodating Shepard’s shorter height. “Please do not redistribute to interested parties.”
“I’m not gonna endanger your people, Legion.” Shepard’s omni-tool flashed bright orange, and she gave the information a quick examination before setting to work. “By the way, Tali says hi.” The texture of his casing was not entirely smooth— there was some denting and corrosion. An unassuming seam provided entry into the side of Legion’s head, just behind his expressive panels. The interior mechanisms appeared surprisingly simple—a network of tidy, glowing wires.
“Unlikely,” replied Legion, so deadpan that Shepard threw her head back laughing. It didn’t take long to find the connection that needed to be tweaked, and with a twist of her wrist, Legion’s lens suddenly lit up, engulfing the room in brilliant white light.
Legion turned to her, but not before lowering the luminous flux to better comply with the sensitivity of her eyes. “We are grateful for your assistance,” Legion stated. “We are an isolated network and as such, it would have been difficult to restore complete functionality without you.”
Shepard secured the access cover, then tossed the multi-tool on the table behind them. “Well, haven’t you done that to yourself? Isolation seems to be the geth preference.”
Legion motioned to the damage in his torso. “Organics fear us. They do not wish to communicate with us.” A pregnant pause followed his statement— entirely too meaningful to come from a machine. “…You are the only one to ever try.”
Shepard’s gaze drifted over him. Legion watched her like he always did. She stared at the broken armor adorning his frame. She could see the other side of the wall through the impact shot; he’d done a poor job at covering it. Already, she had quizzed him on his reasoning for keeping it and was met with only a confused dismissal from the geth.
There was a hole.
But why didn’t you fix it sooner? Or with something else?
...no data available.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she explained.
“You are lonely.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation.
“No.” Shepard denied it, absentmindedly running a cautious finger over the lacerations that crossed her face. She’d seen the network of electronic fibers just under her skin on the occasions that she’d desperately scrutinized herself in the mirror. “I just know how they look at me.”
Both panels lifted in inquiry. “Explain.”
This was probably the only issue in conversating with Legion. He didn’t possess the ability to process abstract thought or insinuations. And, never did he shy away from asking for clarity to increase his understanding on a topic, and was far more straightforward than any organic with his questioning. It oftentimes led to discomfort when discussing more emotional, abstract concepts.
But, despite his absence of conventional facial expressions, Legion was easy to read because he lacked subterfuge. He never hid his intentions, and Shepard found that to be refreshing, even when his line of questioning turned awkward. It made her reanalyze her emotions, and that somehow kept her grounded— reminded Shepard of her own humanity.
“When Cerberus rebuilt me…” Shepard started to explain but found it difficult to continue. She was still entirely uncertain of what to make of the science behind her rebirth, and the real purpose of it. Shepard could only take Cerberus at face-value, and would never trust the organization. To be forced to partner with them was a burdensome strain for her.
“You are 30% synthetic,” Legion said, lifting a single panel above his photoreceptor. “The operatives of the Lazarus Project used cybernetic implants to regenerate both bone and to supplement your natural skeleton. There are also a number of heavy-weave upgrades to your musculoskeletal system and skin.”
“That's right,” Shepard said. She took the opportunity to steer the conversation into a more comfortable, less personal territory. “You’ve certainly shown that you know an awful lot about me.”
“We have done extensive research on you, and monitor your vitals constantly,” Legion stated, confirming what Shepard already knew. Legion was very forthcoming with the fact that he had followed her from Eden Prime, all the way to the original Normandy’s destruction site and every point in-between. Still, Shepard said “Oh, yeah?”
Legion didn’t elaborate, asking instead, “Do you feel that your upgrades have ostracized you?”
Apparently, Shepard's attempt at deflection failed. She tried again. “Why are you monitoring my vitals?” Trading a question for Legion’s own.
Legion’s response was immediate. “You are often too distracted to consistently dispense medi-gel to your own injuries. Instead, you focus on other members of your team. This goes against basic organic survival-instinct. Could you clarify as to the reasoning behind this?”
“Of course,” Shepard answered. “It’s my job to keep you guys alive.”
“We would like to keep you alive, as well,” Legion stated, and Shepard smiled despite herself. He continued with the same pragmatic tone. “If you are ever in need of your own repairs, please allow us to assist you.”
Shepard propped herself up onto the workbench, letting her feet dangle. She wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet. Legion raised two of his panels again, seemingly interested in her new posture, or maybe he was surprised that she was lingering. “I think by repairs, you mean injuries,” she corrected.
There was a long pause, but the usually soft sound of his internal mechanics became noticeably louder— it was the sound of processing that Shepard equated to Legion preparing to arrive at a consensus. His optic dilated, then constricted only to dilate once more.
“No,” Legion finally said. “This…” Without hesitation, he reached behind Shepard to brush over the biotic amp port at the base of her neck. It jolted under his touch, and Shepard couldn’t suppress the unexpected shiver that ran down her spine, and through her extremities. Her bio-amp port had never done that before— under her touch, or the touch of anyone else.
The shock didn’t hurt; quite the opposite.
It felt good.
Shepard slid off the table, taking a clumsy step away from Legion’s outstretched hand. “What—"
“Shepard-Commander is a biotic. Uniquely so, that your biotic port could allow us access to your cybernetic implants. In the event that those are damaged, we could network with you, and aid in temporary reconstruction, or enhanced stimuli.” A pause accompanied by more whirring sounds. “Theoretically, we could link-up and exchange… data with you.” She does not miss the significance of his word choice.
“That sounds strangely intimate coming from a synthetic,” Shepard said.
“Yes,” Legion agreed, taking a step forward. “We are aware of organic preoccupation with sexual intercourse for both pleasure, reproduction, or both.”
Shepard raised her eyebrows with interest, carefully asking, “And, what do you know about sex?”
She expected him to mention the extranet, or whatever the crew thought they had hidden under easily hacked firewalls. But, he didn’t respond with either of those obvious choices. Instead, Legion stated, “The Creators wrote geth programs for specific tasks. Construction. Protection. Domestic servitude.”
That answer wasn’t what she was anticipating, and her stomach sank at what he implied with domestic servitude. “That’s awful,” she said before stopping herself.
“Is it?” Legion asked with what sounded like skepticism.
“You just can’t use people for—" Shepard started.
“As we have stated: The geth were used for many things,” he repeated, matter-of-factly.
Shepard would claim curiosity was to blame when her eyes flickered down to catch a glimpse of what Legion potentially harbored between his legs, but there just wasn’t anything to see.
“This unit is not equipped with that attachment,” Legion confirmed, catching her despite her best efforts to be coy. “Those models do not exist anymore.”
Shepard felt her cheeks grow hot and admonished herself. How could she very well pass judgment on ancient quarians when she had just tried to see if Legion possessed a cock? Legion was nothing, if not a moralistic quandary.
Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, trying to take a moment to process what she learned: The quarians fucked their geth. She sighed, tucking that piece of information away in a dark place, never to see the light of day again. When she opened her eyes, Legion was much closer and appeared to be awaiting a response.
Her words come out quietly. “What could you possibly gain from… linking-up with me?” Shepard desperately wanted it to be a strictly philosophical question but knew that it wasn’t.
“Perhaps it would improve us,” Legion speculated evenly, before asking, “Have we made you uncomfortable?” Shepard swore he sounded like he was teasing her.
“This is just a strangely human topic we’re having together,” Shepard stiffly explained and would have elaborated further, if not interrupted by EDI. “Commander. Your presence is required on the CIC at this time.”
Shepard turned on her heel, leaving without further ado. Right as the automated door was closing, she heard Legion say, “… not just human, Shepard-Commander.”
Shepard didn’t return to the AI Core after their conversation, and it wasn’t distress that was keeping her away— it was the temptation; strange, persistent temptation.
Legion’s touch was still imprinted upon the circular aperture like a lover’s kiss. Too often, Shepard caught herself caressing it— playing with it— but ultimately failing to replicate what the geth did. The electric current of his platform must have been to blame for interacting with her own mix of the natural, and artificial charge that laid just beneath her flesh.
She was in the process of fingering the small port again when the door to her quarters opened, and she quickly dropped her hand away.
The door had been locked, and Shepard rose from her bed to reprimand the enterprising little soul who wanted to test their hacking skills on her personal security measures. It was Legion that sauntered in, and what anger Shepard was planning to unleash upon the interloper dissolved.
Legion didn’t speak until he was within armlengths of her. “Shepard-Commander. You left this.” He opened his palm, revealing the multi-tool— a poorly disguised excuse to enter her private quarters if there was one.
Shepard snatched it out his hand. “You broke in just to give this back to me?” she asked, before shoving it into the pocket of her hoodie.
“Your perceived security leaves much to be desired,” Legion informed her, and she could only roll her eyes. A quiet tension settled between, and Legion inched closer. His next words were apprehensive, shy even. “You have not returned to the AI Core per your usual visitation patterns.”
“Visitation patterns?” she echoed, feeling caught, called-out, and guilty.
“An average of 2.346 times in a standard 24-hour earth cycle,” he elaborated in a faint, unsure voice.
Of course, it was all math to Legion.
He also seemed so damn dejected.
“I’m… sorry,” Shepard said. A half-assed excuse about being too busy idled but never left her mouth. It seemed both wrong, and unnecessary to lie to Legion. “I just needed some time to think what you told me about…” she trailed off.
He raised his arm, and Shepard thought he was about to touch her. Instead, his omni-tool’s interface display flared to life. Methodically, it moved up to down, then left to right.
Shepard following the motion with her eyes, before it ended where it started— right in front of her chest. “What are you doing?”
“Observing the locations of your cybernetics,” Legion responded abstractly. Shepard reckoned he was scheming something. Strangely, even though she was in nothing but her hoodie and panties, Shepard hadn’t felt exposed in front of Legion until now, and a thrill ran down the curve of her spine and hit her clit without warning.
“See something that you like?” Shepard asked suggestively, before mentally kicking herself because she basically just flirted with Legion— not only a geth but her friend. Surely, this was as forbidden as fruit there was.
The omni-tool powered down, but Legion didn’t drop his arm.
“You have been on our mind,” he confessed, hand inching behind her neck. When she made no move to stop him, he cautiously—gently— touched the biotic port found at the base of her skull. It tingled under his touch, just like last time. “Can we get in yours?”
Shepard was no fool. She knew what Legion was asking for.
No, maybe she was stupid because she was going to completely—hopelessly— agree to his offer. Her own hand joined his, touching the port without realizing her finger was following the circular outline. It was only when Legion applied a fraction more pressure, that she dropped it away to let him have more access.
Legion moved with purpose, making her acutely aware of his motion, slow enough for Shepard to step back, or halt the movement if she wanted.
She let him stay, and Shepard’s eyes shut at Legion’s hinted promise of something. When she opened them again, it was through heavy-lids. He was close enough for Shepard to hear the machinal circuitry of his body, and smell how fresh he was. Normally, Legion smelled of nothing more than the subtle scent of the decontamination agent that coated his body, and the rest of the crew’s armor. It was inoffensive, neutral, and forgettable. Now, it was obvious that he must have taken himself to the showers, and that it was no accident that he ended up in her quarters, this close to her body. He had planned this encounter or at least prepared for its possibility.
Despite the confirmation of his aspirations (and how much it pleased her) Shepard found herself saying, “Why do you want to do this?” For their relationship was one of perpetual questioning.
Two panels lifted like he was surprised Shepard was even asking. “We want to know you. All of you.”
“But, why?” she repeated, looking up at him to try gleaning reason from his nonexistent expression.
“We are building a consensus.” He answered with the same lack of emotion that was standard when Legion uttered that particular phrase, but Shepard swore that there was humor mingled in the statement— an attempt to ease the unfamiliar occurrence happening between them.
You have been on our mind. Can we get in yours?
It was enough to relax her, and if there were to be consequences to their coupling, Shepard doubted it would be worse than any other fallout she already accepted. “Ok,” she breathed, finally answering his early inquiry of consent.
The hand at the base of her neck never moved, fingertip still tracing the amp port, and Shepard knew that there was now something obscene about the way he was rubbing it. Her clit was certainly starting to feel envious. Legion’s other chilly, synthetic hand cupped her cheek with reverent tenderness. He tilted her face up towards his, like was positioning her for a kiss, impossible though it was. All Shepard saw was the light from his single optic, fully dilated yet dimmed as to not blind her.
Shepard shifted her height, leaning up to tentatively kissed one of the cables leading to the base of Legion’s photoreceptor, the very thing that Shepard had reconnected only days ago, and was the cause of all this. There was no give to the component, and Shepard pressed her lips to it again, firmer this time.
Legion nudged a little harder at her port, and the cybernetic filaments threaded through her muscles and bones suddenly fired to life. She gasped, soft lips opened wide. Her tongue pressed against the metal at her mouth. He tasted as clean as he smelled.
“You won’t get anything out of this, I can’t—” And how could she still make excuses when she was leaning into, and clutching Legion’s body like he was the only anchor left in the vast, open universe. This really wasn’t the time for an existential crisis.
“Shepard-Commander,” Legion interjected. “That is enough.”
He dropped his hands, moving away.
Shepard instantly missed him.
Legion settled himself on her bed, moving with unnatural fluidity before sitting perfectly still in the center with crossed-legs. Her old, shattered N7 armor shined dully in the dark room, and the exposed wires glowed eerie blue in the jagged damage that was so irreparable in Legion’s chest, despite his best attempts at covering it up.
He never did offer a satisfactory explanation as to why he took the broken fragments, and pieced them to his platform.
“We wish to interface with you now,” he beckoned, digitalized voice breaking Shepard out of her reflections. Inadvertently or otherwise, Shepard realized that Legion may have finally answered that burning question. She approached, leaning down to crawl towards him, and when she was close enough to feel the breath of an otherwise organic partner, Legion gingerly positioned her to turn around, giving him unbridled access to her port. Two fingers slid through the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb pushing the bunched-up fabric of her hoodie away to expose the aperture.
Shepard gripped the covers in anticipation for something that felt suspiciously like foreplay. It was difficult not to imagine it as being anything other than suggestive— he was spreading her open for penetration.
“Relax,” Legion said quietly. “We won’t harm you.”
“I know,” she breathed, relaxing her shoulders and unclenching the sheets. “I trust you.” She leaned her head forward, feeling Legion’s fingers flex in the short strands of her hair. His free hand reached into her pocket, pulling the multi-tool out. Legion shuffled, and Shepard heard what sounded like the scrape of metal being opened behind her, something being pulled free; a wire perhaps.
And then, Legion plugged in.
He was inside of her— a part of her.
She could feel him— all of him.
His platform contained countless tiers: The Consensus, one thousand and hundred eighty-three runtimes and something else that was uniquely Legion.
She was suddenly acutely aware of every cybernetic upgrade pieced through her anatomy before Shepard dived into the weightless sensation of falling, and the edge of her vision darkened. Every neural receptor in her body tighten, felt overloaded with a hot, pleasing sensation, and Shepard’s eyes fluttered shut as she threw her head back trembling. Electric fingers stroked her from the inside out.
Legion’s voice reverberated in her ears, full of scarily-contained awe. “Shepard-Commander. Your biometrics are… boundless and…”
More electric oscillation through the narrow tendrils of her nervous system, and she knew it was Legion pushing his sensory software through her— examining her at an alarmingly fast rate. Shepard’s heart pounded, both from thrill and arousal. Never before had she been so keenly aware of another person— even if the term was debatable for Legion.
“Beautiful,” he finished, and she couldn’t tell if he said it out loud, or was already so integrated into her stimulus-response chains, that she could feel his thought process. When she reopened her eyes, her vision was tinged with a strange neon green that shimmered through the skyline, but when she blinked it was gone, leaving only the view of solar wind above.
Shepard was prone, head rested in Legion’s lap, his hands cradling the back of her skull. She must have slid back when he connected with her. Legion’s body lacked the body temperature she was used to amongst organics, even now the chill of his platform seeped into her.
Both of Legion’s hands moved to cup her cheeks, one rough fingertip caressing the edge of her mouth. It was an affectionate gesture, and without thinking, Shepard tilted her face just enough to press a kiss to the pad of his index finger. She knew that he can’t kiss her back, but it felt good to keep offering Legion her doting nonetheless. His finger stroked her lips again, and when she sucked it into her mouth, it vibrated pleasantly on her tongue. Thin branches of voltage continued to trickle down the nerves of her lumbar, and through her limbs. There was a noticeable tension dancing up her inner thighs, and licking across her pussy.
She clenched her knees, as though it would help relieve the building pressure growing between her legs caused by the influx of warm, electric current traveling through the cybernetic filaments in her skin.
A gentle, unexpected orgasm left her breathless, even as the tip of her tongue darted out to caress the bow of her upper lip. Her body stiffened while she rode it out. Vaguely, through static inference, she felt Legion processing what just happened.
He was pleased with her experience, and with himself.
Her mind was hazy when Shepard heard the zipper of her hoodie being hesitantly pulled down. Legion paused, awaiting further permission. She failed to suppress the chuckle at his caution, especially in the afterglow of the orgasm he so proudly caused.
“Go ahead,” she granted. “Touch me. Really touch me.”
The zipper separated, exposing her overheated breasts and torso to the air. Her nipples were already hard against the soft material, and only pebbled further in Legion’s palm when he grazed the sensitive skin found there. Instinctively, Shepard reached up to brace her arms around the back of Legion’s body, using him as leverage to arch fully into his touch. She found better purchase on the thick cables running from this shoulders to his neck, pulling herself up until she sat sprawled in his lap.
“What does it feel like to you—" Shepard whispered, pressing against his hands. Her breasts fit perfectly into them, and her question dissolved when he started massaged to them, while periodically pinching her nipples. Organic touch had never felt this gratifying.
Though Shepard's brain was receiving a steady stream of sensory information her body yearned for more visceral contact with Legion, even if what he was flooding her with left her feeling hypersensitive and raw.
“I wish you could just fuck me,” Shepard panted desperately. Her panties were soaked—had been since he first touched her.
She didn’t expect a reply. Legion, though entirely engaged in her pleasure, was a silent partner. He didn’t need to breathe, moan, or even shudder with an orgasm. But, internally she felt him pulse. “We…” His voice was like an echo in her ears, and another ripple danced through her own circuitry. Two synthetic fingers brushed her inner thigh. She jerked towards the contact. “…Desire that as well.”
“Oh, please…” Though Shepard didn’t know what she was begging for— a plea for fulfilment, or continued silence. She knew that he couldn’t— didn’t need him to tease.
But, hadn’t she just done the same thing to him?
There was an abrupt disconnect from the port on her neck, the virtual link between them broken.
Shepard’s entire body felt like it was plunged in icy water, physical reality hitting sharp and unexpected. She gasped, head snapping back onto Legion’s chest at the shock. Without the fuzzy obstruction of the digital interface, environmental sensations were momentarily crisp and new again. Legion was moving behind her and pressing Shepard firmly against his chest. He effortlessly supported her body while lifting her to her knees. His thigh was hard and frigid when he pushed it between her legs, spreading them open— a perfect temperature to ease the feverish throbbing found there.
With an impatient shove, her panties were pushed aside, and Legion’s fingers slid through the wet folds of her pussy immediately finding her clit. He ground against it in a slow, circular fashion. It was the exact way he rubbed her amp port earlier. Of their own accord, Shepard’s hips bucked against his digits. His unoccupied hand traced a slow curve down the bend of her spine, over her round ass before both fingers swiftly entered her from behind. There was no semblance of resistance, her body already opened and ready for him. The wet sounds of his digits thrusting in and out filled her ears, making Shepard moan unabashedly. It encouraged Legion to keep an efficient rhythm that was hitting her just right.
The finger over her clit and the two deep inside the wet threshold of her body moved in conjunction with each other, and there wasn’t a moment when she didn’t feel stimulated. And while Legion couldn’t breathe or come like an organic partner, it also meant that he didn’t need to take a pause in his ministrations. Her muscles tensed, and she gripped the back of his neck pulling him closer. She bore down upon his hand at the same time that Legion thrust up, and when she came around his fingers, the experience felt real.
Legion didn’t withdrawal while she rode out the haze of orgasm, and it was only after she was fully sedated that his digits carefully pulled out. She basked in the sensory overload, forgotten sweat-soaked hoodie tucked into the bend of her elbows, and inner thighs slick with only herself. Shepard’s arm was still weakly wrapped around Legion’s back, and she only needed to move her face a fraction to kiss the side of his buccal panel.
“What did it feel like to you?” she asked, repeating her inquiry uttered in the heat of arousal. “When we were connected?” Shepard pressed, feeling too emotionally invested in his answer, feeling too attached to the experience, but wasn’t that just the damn way human nature worked?
Shepard watched him analyze his hands, smearing the clear glossy lubrication between his index and thumb in wonder. He said nothing and gave no indication that he even heard her.
My god, I broke him.
It was when Shepard was drifting into post-coitus sleep, too taxed to stay awake any longer, that Legion finally answered quietly in his artificial, synthesized voice.
“I could feel your heart beating for me.”