Ante Up Prequel: Bitey-Scratchy Love

Their first nights together had been a tentative test. Garrus had gone to excrutiating lengths to watch for possible reactions, gauge how Shepard had responded to his carefully-planned movements, and make a mental record of what each of her sounds meant. It had been nerve-racking, to say the least, and, though Garrus had enjoyed their lovemaking immensely, he had been holding back for fear of harming her. It was actually starting to wear him down and turn their precious hours together into a fumbled, awkward mess.

And, it didn't take Shepard long to notice.

"Garrus," she whispered against his neck as he made clumsy work of removing her bra. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," he replied, the word sounding more like a grumble. Though he hadn't been particularly skilled at removing the garment before, he was having more difficulty unlatching the clasp than usual. Though he had already undressed and she was nearly naked herself, they had barely made it three feet into the cabin and were hovering next to the bathroom door as though they were adrift. Shepard made the executive decision to take over and get things on the right track before it became too awkward.

She folded her arms behind her back, nudging his hands away. "Let me." She snapped the hooks open deftly and the straps slouched on her shoulders. "I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you. You seem anxious."

"Just need more practice, I guess," he muttered, slipping one of the thin straps down the freckled curve of her shoulder.

She caught his hand when he reached for the other strap. "It's more than that, isn't it?"

Garrus tried not to hesitate in responding. "Everything is fine."

He slid the other strap off and removed the bra entirely. Shepard was still giving him an accusing look, though, so he broke eye contact and dipped his head down to nuzzle her collarbone. He puffed a hot breath between her breasts and flicked his mandibles against the soft globes, knowing from recently gained experience that the motion felt pleasant to her. He hoped it would distract her from her interrogation.

It didn't.

She cupped his chin in her hand and tilted his head back up, insisting that he look her in the eye. "You're dodging."

"You're imagining things," he argued.

"Am I?" she challenged. She nudged him backwards, guiding him until they had reached the desk, and she shoved him down into the awaiting chair. He stared up at her, his eyelids heavy, and the chilly blue of his irises darkened with lust. Shepard had been taking notes of her own and, through careful experimentation, had discovered that her gunnery chief had a thing for being manhandled a little.

Shepard decided to test the kink further, straddling his lap roughly and pushing him back in the chair with a hard kiss. He growled in response, allowing her tongue access past the edge of his maw. The act of kissing was one that he had grown accustomed to quickly. Her tongue was soft and pink, much like the rest of her, and, though it was considerably shorter and less flexible than his, she used it in the most interesting ways: swirling pink against blue, probing inside as though she were mapping out his teeth. It was all very strange to him, but not unpleasant.

He curled his tongue against hers, lapping at her lips and drowning in her peculiar taste. He almost lost himself to it, until she gyrated her hips against him, scraping her inner thighs across his plates. He instantly ceased all movement, drawing back and fidgeting as though he wanted her to stand.

Shepard complied reluctantly, creeping backwards and placing one foot to the floor. She kept the other leg in the chair, however, and cocked a brow at him in question of what to do next. His attention was elsewhere, though, his gaze roving worriedly over her thighs. She followed his eyeline and noticed that he was fussing over the soft skin on the insides of her legs. Usually porcelain-pale, they were currently flushed from the friction his plates had caused, and he looked overly bothered by it.

"You... you didn't stop me because of this, did you?" Shepard asked cautiously, dropping a hand down to caress her thigh.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Garrus returned, his voice bordering on the closest thing to shame Shepard had ever heard from him.

"This?" Shepard sputtered. "No, not at all."

"But Mordin said..." Garrus murmured, glancing away. "He said you would... chafe."

She held back a laugh. "That's after a lot of irritation." To prove her point, she placed her nails against her knee and scratched up to the junction at her hip, raking over the flushed patch on her inner thigh. Four irritated rows blossomed where her nails had been and Garrus swallowed an odd sound as the red lines etched across her thigh. "Our skin reddens easily, but that doesn't mean it hurts." She ran her nails over her thigh again, raising more marks that cross-hatched over the previous ones. "It can actually feel pretty nice." Her curiosity peaked. "Is that what's wrong?"

Garrus' expression was a mix of emotions: worry, mostly, but something else underlined it. He liked the sight of the marks a little more than he cared to admit. Quietly, he said, "I don't want to hurt you, Shepard."

She processed the words, then stood slowly. She took his hand in her, examining the plating of his knuckles and tracing her fingertips over the edges of his talons. They were blunted, sharp enough to do damage if considerable force was placed behind them but dull enough that it was obvious he had been filing them. Shepard was suddenly hit with the realization that he had been holding back and had been taking more precautions than she had even considered.

"Have you even... enjoyed any of it?" Shepard asked guiltily. Had she been so enraptured by him that she'd ignored his needs? Had he actually been miserable the whole time they'd been together?

"Of course I have," he defended instantly. "I wouldn't continue if I didn't get anything out of it."

"But it isn't enough," Shepard concluded.

He sighed, flexing his talons in her hand. "I just... worry that I'll get carried away. I've never had a partner who was so... soft. Even with my claws maintained, it feels like I could just rip right into you."

Shepard frowned, released his hand, and turned her back to him. He held back a whine but had a sinking feeling that this might be the end of them. In a way, he had deceived her, but, Spirits, damn it, he had only wanted to be the lover she deserved: gentle, tender...

She craned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "I want you to do something." His only reply was a hopeless quiver of his mandibles. "Scratch my back."

"What?" he blurted, mandibles jumping.

"I told you it can feel nice," Shepard said. "Try it. I'll tell you if it's too rough."

"But-"

"I'm proving a point here, Garrus," Shepard ordered. "Do it."

He hummed in frustration but quietly obeyed, bringing his hand up and resting it on her shoulder blade. He took a nervous breath and drew his claws down, only marking an inch-long section of skin. Red lines appeared, as she had promised, but she didn't appear bothered by it. He laid another test stroke down the opposite shoulder, pressing harder and dragging to the end of her shoulder blade. The marks were angrier, but she still made no move to stop him.

The marks seemed to swell slightly, taunting him to run his claws over again. Shame boiled in his gut. He was enjoying the sight of those trails on her back and his instincts tugged sharply in his mind, urging him to lay heavier lines into her.

"It's okay?" he asked, flexing his talons.

"That all you've got?" Shepard returned with a laugh.

"No," he grumbled, a little insulted at her amused tone.

"I'm not going to break, you know," she teased. "What's the worst you could do? Cut me open?"

"It wouldn't be difficult," Garrus warned.

Shepard spun around and he jolted in surprise. "I think you're exaggerating."

"I'm not," he said.

She grabbed his shoulders and rammed him into the chair, eliciting a sharp growl. "I'm a little hurt that you think I'm that weak."

"I don't think you're weak," he argued, "I just know what I'm capable of."

"How do you know I wouldn't like it?" she purred, leaning in and nipping the edge of his mandible.

He shivered. "I don't want to risk it. What we have is fine..." His undertone was a heavy purr and it grew louder as Shepard trailed her lips down his neck. He mewled as she placed kisses against the groove of his jugular.

"But think of what it could be if you let go," she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. "If you'd just allow yourself a little..." (another kiss) "..bit..." (another, with parted lips) "...more."

She nipped the skin roughly and Garrus nearly came out of his seat. She pressed him back, catching him in her teeth again, not nearly hard enough to break skin but it sent a spark straight to his groin.

He yanked her into his lap, his talons grazing her bottom and scraping up her back as he held her close. Every fiber of him insisted that he return her gesture, just a playful nip, but he fought it, focusing on limiting the force of his claws in her back.

She made it difficult to concentrate, however, as she bit down closer to his shoulder. She had no idea what a bite there symbolized, and Garrus knew he couldn't let her actually leave a mark there. However, words escaped him and instead his talons leapt into action to stop her. He clawed down her back, much more forcefully than before, and her head snapped up with a hiss.

Garrus stilled his hand as she let out a ragged pant, and he suddenly feared that he'd gone to far. "Shepard... I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I had to stop you."

"Stop me?" Shepard gasped. Her eyes slowly opened and locked with Garrus', burning with an intensity that he hadn't quite expected.

"My neck," he said. "That's where turians place bitemarks to claim their mates."

"Am I not your mate?" Shepard asked.

"N-no," Garrus stammered in embarrassment. "We're partners, but we aren't mates. That's a permanent union, one that's legally recognized. It's the equivalent of human marriage."

Shepard sputtered a laugh. "I almost married you?"

"It's not funny, Shepard," he grumbled. "I didn't hurt you, did I? You looked like you were in pain."

"Wasn't pain," she said.

He blinked. "It wasn't? So you... liked it?" He grabbed her shoulders, motioning for her to twist so he could get a look at her back. His inspection produced a result that made him uneasy. "You're bleeding."

"Bad?" she asked.

"No..." he hummed. He had left two considerable welts next to her spine and the ends of the lines were roughed up where his claws had scraped a little too deep.

"It'll be healed by morning," Shepard muttered. "My cybernetics patch me up really quick, you know."

"That's hardly the point," Garrus whined.

Shepard planted a kiss on his mouth then pulled back with a smile. "You let go a little and it didn't kill me." She cupped his mandible in her palm. "How was it for you? Letting go, I mean?"

He flicked his mandible against her hand, feeling warm at the affectionate gesture even if she didn't understand its meaning. "It was... hmm."

"Garrus, it's okay to enjoy it," Shepard soothed. "I liked it, really. You can get caught up in the heat of the moment and I'll be right there with you." She kissed his nose. "I don't want you to miss out."

"But isn't it painful?" Garrus asked. "That can't be pleasant."

"It is a little," Shepard admitted. "But it's not that bad. Sometimes pain and pleasure blur and it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends."

"That sounds like something Jack would say," Garrus grumbled.

"Do a little more research," Shepard snapped. "It's pretty common for humans to bite or scratch each other, so pain isn't an immediate turn-off. How many times do I have to tell you that it can be nice?"

"Maybe," Garrus said, "but I can do more than a human could."

"Pain is a sign that you're alive," Shepard said.

"What?"

"It's a quote," Shepard said. "It's one of those things that people say to make themselves sound tougher, I guess. But once you've been so close to death, or once you've died once, in my case, you start to see the value in the words. Pain is... it's confirmation. I heal so fast now that I almost don't feel human anymore. I feel like maybe I am just an AI that Cerberus built." She sighed. "But AI's don't feel pain and I do. It's all I have to hold onto sometimes."

"You don't have to cling to pain like it's the only thing keeping you alive," Garrus said.

"But it serves a dual purpose," she argued. "You don't have to hold back or pretend you're something you're not and I get the assurance that I'm still human." She smiled. "And maybe I just want to push you a little."

"Oh, is that what gets you going?" Garrus said flippantly.

"You're not the only one who likes it rough," she purred.

"That... ah..." His mandibles jumped.

"You aren't the only one keeping tabs," she said, running her fingers under the edges of his mandibles to still them. "Now, where were we?"

"Pretty sure we were at the part where I tell you that touching someone's mandibles is an extremely intimate gesture," Garrus said quickly, said appendages quivering against her fingers.

"Oh yeah?" Shepard chirped, sliding her thumbs up to the junction at his jaw. She rubbed gently and he let out a pleased croon. "Is it something only mates do?"

"Typically..." he groaned. "But I think I'll let it slide."

"And the rest of the night?" she asked. "How's it going to play out?"

"It's up to you."

"I say we see exactly how much of those claws I can handle."