Commander Shepard wasn’t in the mood to deal with this shit. Her mission to the refinery on Zorya had ended in frustration, with the Spectre forced to watch Vito Santiago escape rather than let dozens of workers burn to death. She’d only barely managed to make Zaeed stand down afterwards and the confrontation had left her on edge, a situation not improved by the message she’d just gotten from Miranda.
Storming into her XO’s office, she found the woman in question sitting at her desk, reading a report that she tossed to one side when she saw the Spectre.
“What the hell are you thinking?”, Shepard demanded, not even waiting for Miranda to open her mouth before she launched into the tirade that had been building all the way down from the bridge. “You want to talk with me ‘regarding a personal matter?’ I know I’ve helped some of the crew resolve their outstanding issues, but if you think you can ask me for that kind of favor after what you did, you’re out of your mind!”
Much to her surprise, Shepard thought she saw a slight break in the operative’s normal, cool demeanor. “You misunderstand me, commander,” she said. “The personal issue I wanted to deal with was yours.”
"Mine!” She had no patience for whatever game Miranda was playing. “Do you mean the issue where you gave me a goddamn dick and then threw that fucking yeoman at me like I was a horse you were breeding?”
Miranda sighed. She had known when she sent her message to Shepard that this was going to be difficult but that didn’t change what she needed to do. “You’re right to be angry,” the operative admitted. “I made a mistake.”
Shepard was too upset to fully take in Miranda’s confession. “A mistake? Nice of your to realize that now. Do you think that makes it all better?”
"No, I don’t.” She shook her head. “And I can’t fix it right now. Re-shaping your genitalia properly, to say nothing of undoing the work we did on your nervous system and other glands would take far more time than we have under the present circumstances. But perhaps there’s something else I can do for you.”
"What’s that?”, Shepard asked incredulously, not believing that Miranda really had her best interests at heart.
"You’re clearly frustrated, Shepard. It’s going to affect the mission. I could help you to relieve that.”
"Going for the direct approach are we?”, the commander snapped. “I wouldn’t knock up Kelly, so now you’re offering yourself in her place?”
"No, I…” Miranda felt the knot of guilt in her gut tightening. She’d known she’d caused Shepard pain, but hearing the anger in voice, she realized just how much her unwanted alterations had upset the commander. “That’s not what I want, not anymore,” she told her. She paused, trying to decide what to say and coming to the realization that only honestly had any chance of working here.
“Commander, I was wrong about you. When I got this assignment, I thought that you were just that: a job. A pretty face to recruit allies, a weapon to point at our enemies, and yes, a prize specimen to breed. But then I met you and you were so much more than I expected. Even after we did what we did to your body, even after we told you this was a suicide mission, you went ahead with it, because the galaxy needs you. You’ve taken misfits, and criminals, and outcasts, and turned them into a real team. You’ve helped people that you could’ve ignored, even when there was nothing in it for you. You don’t deserve what Cerberus did to you, what I did to you. Let me try to make it right. There are things we could do that wouldn’t put you at risk of giving the Illusive Man what he wants.”
She looked into Shepard’s eyes and seeing her anger wavering, she made a final appeal. “I know you find me attractive,” she told her, “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same. This will benefit both of us.”
Shepard swallowed hard. In spite of the commander’s ambivalence about her proposition, Miranda’s pretty features framed by her long, dark hair and her perfectly sculpted curves were enough to make the Spectre’s already hair-trigger cock stir with desire. What convinced her though weren’t Miranda’s looks. It was the genuine vulnerability the commander had heard in her voice, the sight of the real person beneath the mask.
"All right,” she told her. She was half convinced she’d regret this in the end, but it was worth a shot. She’d built her career as a commander by giving people a chance to prove themselves, and she was a good enough judge of character to feel that Miranda was telling the truth about her motives.
Of course, she reflected as Miranda began to unzip her cat suit, that she might just be rationalizing thanks to the incredible amount of sexual frustration she had built up. Miranda pulled the tight garment over her shoulders and down her body, and as her creamy, beautiful skin was revealed, the commander could feel the blood that had once been in her brain rapidly relocating itself elsewhere.
Her cock was practically ripping a hole in her uniform, but for once, the commander wasn’t worried about somebody noticing. Miranda knew better than anyone what she was getting into, and as she stood there in her lacy black bra and panties, hungrily eyeing the Spectre, she seemed positively enthused by the prospect.
Trying to decide where to begin, Miranda had to admit to herself that this situation was a bit unusual. A kiss didn’t feel right at that moment, and so instead, she reached out, running her hands over the strong muscles of the Spectre’s arms. As much time as she’d spent looking at her body when it was lying on an operating table in her lab, this felt different. A living woman was not an inert medical specimen.
Miranda removed the commander’s shirt and the grey sports bra beneath it, impressed by how much her cybernetic scars had faded. To have maintained her positive outlook in spite of the frustration Miranda had inflicted on her couldn’t have been easy, and she silently resolved to do her best to make it up to her new lover.
As Miranda bent down and warm hands massaged her breasts, Shepard could feel her reservations melting away. The woman definitely knew what she was doing, her thumbs stroking the commander’s nipples to full hardness even as her mouth started planting kisses on the soft skin around them, but more than that, she felt genuinely affectionate, like this was more than just an operative doing a job.
Reaching out, she pulled Miranda into her arms, enjoying the feeling of warm skin against her body as she led the two of them to the bed in the adjourning room. It was smaller than her own, but still bigger than any of the ones on the old Normandy, and there was room enough for her to lie down comfortably. She had quite the tent forming in her pants, and while Miranda positioned herself between her legs, Shepard took them off along with her boxers, allowing her throbbing cock room to breath.
Even more than with the rest of her body, Miranda found that it was different looking at the organ in front of her now that her former patient was active. The shaft she had given the Spectre was rock-hard with need, and as Miranda ran her fingers over Shepard’s hips, it pulsed, practically begging for her touch. The operative obliged, wrapping one hand around the base. It felt so warm against her palm, the heat so unlike the clinical associations she’d had with it before, and as she started running her hand up and down the length, the moans Shepard was letting out were definitely not something she associated with medicine.
Already, she could see beads of wetness forming on the slit, and she brushed her thumb over it, using the fluid to lubricate her strokes. A powerful hand reached down to tangle in her black hair, not painfully, but firmly, a deep need gripping the Spectre as she moved closer to the first conscious release she had had since her death.
As Shepard’s hips started to buck beneath her, Miranda leaned over, wrapping her lips around the head of her commander’s cock. She had her pride after all, and she wanted to make sure the woman’s first experience with her was memorable, something that, based on the strangled sound that escaped Shepard’s throat, she suspected she was well on her way to achieving.
Miranda sucked on the head of her cock while, with her hand, she kept making slow, steady strokes along the base of the shaft. That alone was enough to make Shepard go mad with desire, but when Miranda removed her grip and instead dropped down, taking the commander all the way into her throat, she nearly lost it. Her dick jumped in her XO’s mouth, and her grip on her hair tightened. “Oh god,” she mumbled, “Don’t stop.”
Her mouth was too full to respond with words, but Miranda replied by repeating her action, first pulling all of the way up so that she could lick the cockhead in her mouth before deep-throating her once more. This time, Shepard broke, and her whole body shuddered even as her cock began releasing shot after shot of hot fluid.
The way Shepard would taste was one of the few things Miranda hadn’t considered when resurrecting the commander, but she found she liked her flavor well enough, a mixture of male and female that was different than anything she’d experienced before. There was quite a bit of it too, but Miranda was nothing if not a perfectionist, and though she pulled up enough to swallow more easily, she didn’t stop suckling on the pulsing head in her mouth until she drew out every last bit of Shepard’s come.
In spite of the satisfied sigh that came from the commander though, when Miranda at last pulled off of her cock, she saw that the woman was still hard, her slick organ sticking straight up out of the small patch of red pubic hair at its base. “Ah,” she said, unsurprised at this development.
"Ah, what?”, Shepard asked, her satisfaction warring with her lingering suspicions of the operative.
"You are still a woman, commander,” Miranda told her. “In spite of your alterations, multiple orgasms remain very much a possibility, particularly when you’ve been deprived for so long. But don’t worry,” she added, “I told you I’d take care of this, and I never leave a job half-finished.”
In spite of the business-like tone of her words, there was a twinkle in her eyes as she said them, and Shepard could only grin with anticipation as Miranda went back to work. “So, Shepard?”, the operative asked mischievously, “I may have studied you extensively, but I’m still not sure about one thing: are you a breast woman?”
She wasn’t quite sure where Miranda was going with that question, but as the operative reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, releasing ample breasts topped by hard pink nipples, all she could think to do was mumble, “I can be, sometimes.”
"Lovely.” Miranda reached down and took hold of Shepard’s shaft once more, but this time, she didn’t start pumping it. Instead, she moved further down, her legs dangling off the back of the bed as she guided the sticky shaft into the valley between those impressive tits. They felt wonderful against her sensitive skin, so soft and pillow-y, and when Miranda pushed them together and started rubbing them up and down her length, Shepard could only stare in amazement at her.
Her hips started moving almost as if of their own accord, thrusting up in a desperate attempt to increase the friction on her needy shaft. The urge to come, never entirely gone, had returned with a vengeance, spurred on by the highly inspirational sight of the gorgeous Cerberus operative tit-fucking her. After a minute or two, however, Miranda unexpectedly stopped. Shepard groaned with disappointment, but before she could say anything, her XO reached into the nightstand by her bed and pulled out a small bottle of lubricant.
"Trust me,” she promised the Spectre, “This will be worth it.”
She squirted a dollop of the liquid onto her palm and returned her hand to Shepard’s cock, running it up and down the length and spreading the gel around. The viscous substance felt great, making Miranda’s slippery strokes far more pleasurable, and when the operative finished applying it and returned Shepard between her breasts, she whimpered at the new sensation. As good as those tits had felt on her shaft before, this was even better, her erection sliding easily in-between the now-slick orbs, letting her fuck them with a smooth rhythm.
Shepard could rapidly feel herself losing control once more. Miranda had seemingly perfect form, not only sliding her tits delightfully over her thrusting erection, but now, flicking out her tongue, lavishing the tip with wet attention every time it emerged from between them. The combination was too much and she groaned, “Fuck, Miranda, I’m gonna…”
Even as she said the words, her mind’s eye pictured her climax, imagining herself coming all over the gorgeous Cerberus woman, and that visual was all that it took. On her next upstroke, she pulsed hard, a spurt of her come leaping out to splash on Miranda’s lips before she was enveloped once more by those magnificent tits. Over and over, she throbbed between them, shots of her thick release covering the already slick skin and erect nipples, making an utter mess of her XO until it felt like all the fluid in Shepard’s body had been pulled out of her.
The Spectre slumped down drained on the bed panting, while Miranda used an end of the sheet to dry off her chest, a pleased expression on her face as she licked her lips clean. “There, commander,” she told her, “Isn’t that better?”
“Definitely,” Shepard agreed, but when Miranda went to pick up her bra, the commander stopped her, pulling herself up into a sitting position. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“You seemed satisfied, so I assumed we were finished here.”
The commander shook her head. “Listen, you might have given me a cock but that doesn’t mean I’ve turned into the kind of asshole that just wants to get off and split. You did something for me and I’d like to return the favor.”
“One could argue,” Miranda pointed out, “That I owed you that.”
“Maybe,” Shepard told her, running her tongue suggestively over her lips, “But is that how you want me to look at it?”
“No,” Miranda conceded, a shudder of desire running through her perfect body as she imagined what Shepard might do to her. All her life, she had been dismissive of the men and women she’d had her generally brief affairs with, but the commander was different, someone formidable enough to challenge her and yet decent enough for her to trust.
“Good,” Shepard replied, reaching across the bed to pull the operative closer to her. Without thinking about what she was doing, the Spectre kissed her. It felt natural, and as Miranda’s lips parted for her tongue, she let herself enjoy the kiss for what it was. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was affectionate and passionate, and right now, that was enough. A part of her thought that she should still be upset with Miranda, but she felt so good, so relaxed right then that she could barely recall her earlier anger.
Her hand started to wander down her XO’s back, feeling the other woman’s spine arch as her strong fingers massaged the muscles there. Warm lips went to the operative’s neck, nipping at the soft flesh, and Miranda’s own hands wrapped around Shepard’s back, her tightening grip wordlessly urging her to do more.
With a deft motion, she flipped Miranda onto her back, and one hand grabbed her pale leg, sliding up a well-toned calve until it reached the junction between them. Shepard could already see moisture seeping through her XO’s lacy panties and she wasted little time in running her hand over them, pressing down on the fabric when her skilled fingers found the swollen shaft of her clit beneath it.
Miranda gasped, sitting up slightly, and Shepard took advantage of her greater proximity to close her mouth around a pink nipple. It still tasted slightly of her own release mingled with the fruity flavor of the lube, but she ignored it, instead enjoying the moans she was coaxing from the operative. With a tug, she pulled down her underwear and let her fingers play over Miranda’s entrance. It was nicely wet, and she had little trouble working two of her fingers into the welcoming heat of the gorgeous woman’s pussy.
The operative clenched around her, sucking her fingers in, and soon Shepard began moving them. She started slowly, trying to discover the spots that her lover liked best, while she kept kissing her breasts. The first few strokes drew out some pleasant gasps, but when she pressed against a swollen spot on Miranda’s inner walls, the reaction was immediate. Her hips started to buck against the Spectre’s touch, and Shepard sped up, her thrusts becoming more forceful. As the operative growled with desire, Shepard looked up from her chest. The normally icy woman’s face was contorted with pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as for once she go of her rigid self-control and enjoyed what was being done to her.
“More, damn it,” she demanded, “Harder,” and Shepard added a third finger, the fit around her hand incredibly tight now. A part of her wondered what it would feel like to have her cock buried in that heat, but she put the thought aside, focusing on what was possible right now. Wetness dripped down onto her digits as she thrust and she could tell it wouldn’t take too much longer before Miranda peaked. She brought their lips back together, her kiss fiercer this time as her thumb sought out the operative’s clit. It was easy to find between her shaved folds, and hard as a little rock beneath her touch. Miranda moaned into her mouth, and Shepard’s free hand ran through her dark hair as she tried to coax her release out of her, drawing little circles on the bud even as she kept thrusting.
“Come for me,” she whispered in her lover’s ear before running her tongue down its outer ridge. She sucked hard on the lobe, and as she did, she felt Miranda’s inner walls someone tighten even further around her. The operative’s body stiffened as the electricity of her climax overtook her, her fluid running down Shepard’s hand and onto the sheets even as her fingers clutched at the commander’s shoulders.
As Miranda shook with pleasure, Shepard made a few final strokes, drawing out her orgasm, before bringing her fingers up to her mouth so that she could taste her lover. The operative’s flavor was rich and sweet and Shepard licked herself clean, enjoying both the taste and the fact that she had coaxed it out of Miranda.
As the operative looked up into her freckled face, she could tell that Shepard was pleased with herself, but more importantly, she was far more relaxed than the operative had ever seen her before. In her confidence, Miranda could see the powerful commander they would need if they were going to survive this mission and though she knew that the Illusive Man would be furious with her when he figured out what she’d done, she also had no doubt that it had been the right thing to do, not just for Shepard but for her own soul as well.