Renegade Shepard: Liara

Dr. Liara T'soni felt a frisson of delight run up her spine, from her tailbone all the way to her headcrest. This was the moment she'd been anticipating for weeks.

Commander Shepard was in the Normandy Medbay with a suspected pelvic fracture—or so he thought. He thought this, because it's what she had told him. The real reason for his extended stay, however, was far more self-serving.

Shepard had been fighting Cerberus shock troops in the field, and in truth looked much rougher than he was. His L-class implants radiated a dull maroon where the skin was still contiguous, and glowed crimson where it wasn't. You could hardly see the sclera of his right eye anymore. Only red.

He was propped up on a vacuum mattress when she came in, the matte titanium bed inclined at a standard exam room eighteen degrees. His hands were clasped behind his head, and she took a moment to appreciate the view.

Shepard was nearly 200 centimeters in height, and every centimeter delicious as far as Liara was concerned. He was a wonder. The hard, hulking knots of muscle that bulged dangerously from his scarred and twisted skin gave her butterflies and twinges low in her tummy. If she was being perfectly honest, his intake physical on the Normandy hadn't been an entirely professional affair either. Liara had joined Dr. Michel for the Commander's evaluation, ostensibly for a xenobiological-paleontological survey. The only trouble was, there weren't any other subjects. And Shepard, like today, had been nude, draped only in a towel over his groin.

At the time, Dr. Michel hadn't been pleased with him.

"You are in bad shape, Commander," she had admonished, swallowing her r's sexily. Her tone was brusque and tart. Liara had peeked up from her datapad, curious how this exchange would go, and not without a small stab of jealousy. Dr. Michel was, after all, another woman. And had beautiful cheekbones.

"Can you be a bit more specific, Doc?" Shepard's reaction was cool. He was flexing and extending the fingers of his left hand experimentally. Three of the carpal implants had been entirely replaced on that side minutes before. The digits still oozed blood and immunosuppressant.

"Contusions and lacerations in multiple states of 'ealing, two complete fractures set with titanium pins instead of being allowed to close properly, and your metabolic panel is terrible. You are not eating properly and don't seem to be getting sleep. There are renal troubles. One of your kidneys 'as been badly damaged; I'm trying to tell if it's—and don't move!" she snapped. "I am right in 'ze middle of my imaging for 'zat one! You can't even take care of yourself, 'ow will you possibly keep abreast of 'zis vessel or events in 'ze field?"

Shepard's voice, in response to this, had been so low that it was barely audible. Liara's ears perked up and strained to hear it, but she was too nervous to lean forward. He would see.

"Dr. Michel, if you ever, ever, question my fitness to command this ship, we will have, the two of us, such a problem. You wouldn't believe."

The Frenchwoman had frozen, and gone white as a sheet. She left without another word, the bay doors hissing shut behind her.

Liara had been trying to make herself as small as possible when she was pulled out of her reverie.

"Dr. T'soni."

Her head shot up, eyes too wide, lips pressed too firmly together, outlook too sunny. Shepard's lambent gaze penetrated her, unnerved and magnetized and transfixed her.

"You have everything you need for your survey?"

There was a rattling hum from his chest as he spoke. His words were dysphonic. Something had been knocked loose, and buzzed harshly in tandem with the flat, exhausted cadence of his voice. She felt a surge of sympathy, marrying her fear.

Liara's mind raced, looking for words, trying to remember what she was supposed to be doing. What the research was. Mercifully, he cut her non-response short.

"You'll show yourself out, then."

Liara minced out of Medbay with us much poise as she could muster. She felt as meek and vulnerable as a mouse. But the encounter had only fed and nourished her intoxication with the brutal, domineering, terrifying Captain.

She had climaxed three times, that night. Alone.

"Dr. T'soni."

Liara twitched, jolted back to present reality. Shepard was staring blandly from the vacuum mattress. He hadn't lost his temper yet, but he didn't look entertained. She gaped at him. "The fracture," he repeated. "The pelvic fracture."

"Yes, right! Well, as you know, Commander, you sustained significant blunt force trauma to the right iliac crest of the pelvis. I reviewed the team, um, video footage, where they hit you, and I'm trying to pin down a diagnosis. It may be a contusion only, but there is a deep laceration distal to it. And the pelvic implant, S-288, overlies the iliac crest, so I'm going to need to do a physical exam due to the imaging confounding," she finished nervously, willing the trap to spring in her favor.

Shepard looked nonplussed. The long, pregnant pause amplified her mounting unease. It was getting difficult to breathe.

"The L-series implants continuously regenerate the adjacent tissues, Doctor. Even the old junk series. Slap some Medigel on it and call it a day."

Liara's heart sank. She scrambled for something to salvage her point and retort. "Yes, that is true, but I've just read in the JAMC, the Journal of Applied Medical Cybernetics, that is, just last week, that major bone fractures in implant subjects should be definitively checked for misalignment. That means imaging and a physical. The implants can close the fracture eventually, true, but even small misalignments can have major repercussions vis-à-vis joint instability. And that," she concluded, feeling foolish, "would translate to significantly compromised field performance. Going forward."

Shepard said nothing. He stared at her. Liara felt her heart pounding in her ears, and high violet color creeping into her cheeks. Shit.

Liara cleared her throat, and tried one last gambit. "M-moreover, a pelvic fracture in humans has a significant potential for life-threatening bleeding, and addressing bleeding remains the first priority for isolated operations."

Shepard grunted, mulling this over, then nodded abruptly. "Come and see, then," he rumbled, his voice guttural and curt.

Disbelieving, Liara floated forward. She'd never been this close to the Commander before. As if disembodied, she watched her hand set her datapad on the bed next to his. She came around to his right side. And put her hands on his hip. She could detect only the slightest tremor in her fingertips as they came down. She wondered, absurdly, how finely tuned his ocular implants were, and whether he could tell that she was trembling. It didn't matter anymore.

As her fingertips gently kissed the rugged, hairy skin sweeping over his hip, she closed her eyes and thanked the Goddess that she'd had the presence of mind to send Dr. Michel to the Citadel hematology conference. Chloë would've seen to the exam herself, whether she suspected a ruse or not.

Shepard shook her out of her thoughts again. "So?"

Liara opened her eyes and came back. The lunacy of what she was attempting struck her, the impropriety of it, the breach of faith, and beads of sweat bunched and prickled at the back of her neck, dampening her lab coat.

"I need you to tell me, and be very truthful, whether where I'm palpating is painful or not. I just need to check a few areas. Does this hurt?" Liara pressed firmly on both sides of the crest, being careful to avoid his laceration.

"Yes. You're pulling the sides of that cut open."

Liara blushed again, and grabbed the Medigel atomizer. The laceration sealed again as she sprayed it.

"Then we'll try the femur, too, sometimes the adjacent bones absorb the force from a fracture." Liara pressed firmly on his upper right thigh with both palms, cupping the lateral trochanter with her left. She pushed down, and then inwards. "Anything?"

Shepard looked up at her. His eyes smoldered into hers. From this distance, she could smell the battle on him. He smelled like trauma sweat, and burned hair, and broken fuel cells, and death.

And blood.

"Nothing."

Liara's breath was coming fast and thin now. This was her chance. "Last thing, then. Pubic symphysis. That's where the anterior sides of the pelvis come together. It's—"

"I know where it is."

Liara froze, feeling panic well up. She was committed, at this point. She couldn't very well back out now, not with so much lead-in.

"Get on with it."

Slowly, painfully slowly, Liara began to lower her open hands to the Commander's groin. Her heart soared with the sheer, hysterical joy of it, the thrill of her own perversion, and the prospect of touching Shepard in his intimate place.

The hand that closed viselike on her left wrist wasn't strong. It was crushing. A wave of horror swept through Liara's body as Shepard seized her. She squealed in shock and fright as the massive fingers found purchase in her skin and the tissue beneath. It was agony.

"You, lying. Blue, little bitch." Each word was tasted, ruminated, a separate event. Shepard's tone was moderate, as if further consideration was in order. Liara opened and closed her mouth, her face peaked with fear. She could hear Shepard's teeth grinding as he leered up at her. The implant of his right was burning very brightly, now. Demonic. Too bright to look.

Shepard bellowed as he pulled Liara's arm upward. She felt a spasm of terror and dread as her feet actually left the floor for a moment, and then he was on her, forcing her back, backwards, she could feel the familiar nausea of a biotic charge and a thrum of energy as he knocked her further back still and then she was flat against the wall, and he was there on her, on top of her, pinning her back and forcing the air from her body and she was screaming soundlessly and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, waiting to die, waiting and praying Goddess and refusing to look, because this gruesome, great seething dragon was Death, and to look on Him was Death.

And she would die in His arms.

"Lying, blue, cunt-whore bitch..."

Hoping beyond hope, Liara peeked.

The thrum of Shepard's biotics swept around her again, turning her stomach, and the contents of the Medbay shattered. Slides, vials, beakers, datapads, saline, and medications hurled across the confined space with two thousand newtons of force. The objects split into fragments, lodging neatly yet irregularly into the walls and into the floor or else flattened to smithereens. Liara gasped, trying to breathe, and found that she couldn't.

She was wetter than she'd ever been in her life.

After what felt like an eternity, Liara opened her eyes.

Shepard was inches from her face, breathing his rattling breaths, taking her in, looming, and his eyes were still deadly fire. And then he spoke.

"Most dishonorable, manipulative, despicable conduct I've ever seen in my career. In my life."

Liara sobbed, overcome, the breath hitching back into her lungs. He was going to kill her, she could tell, and he was right, of course he was right, you couldn't just lie to your Commander, ambush and try to abuse him, not with so much at stake, and she understood now, and she would gladly die, and she was sorry, so sorry, and she had wanted him so much. More than anything.

Shepard seemed lost in thought. He was muttering something, air hissing between his teeth, and it sounded like "dereliction," or "derangement." He snapped back into focus.

"You're going to tell me exactly what you want from me, Doctor. No more bullshit, no more games. Otherwise, walk out of here right now. I don't have time for any kind of nonsense. Not anymore."

Liara swallowed, hard. She kept her feet planted on the ground, willing herself to stand still. She couldn't believe it. She had to act, but couldn't think of anything clever to say. She hoped her voice would remain steady.

"Please, do me. Please. Own me."

Shepard stretched his neck, considering. There was a grating sound, and the cracks of his vertebrae. Liara winced, wondering what was happening with the implants there. He nodded.

"On your knees, Doctor. There is going to be some discipline on my ship."

Trembling, Liara lowered one gorgeous azure knee to the tile floor, and then the other. She stared up at the Captain, silent, obedient, supplicant. It was unbelievable, how cold the tile felt on her skin. Even through her clothing.

Shepard's voice grated and broiled in his chest. It was horrifying. It was exhilarating. "You are going to open your lying, blue, pert, perfect whore mouth, and you are going to drag your lying, blue, cunt-whore tongue up and down on my cock. You are going to swirl your tongue around and around my helmet until I tell you to stop. And then, if and when I've judged your efforts favorably, your jaw is going to go slack as I fuck your skull. You will gag. You will likely be very uncomfortable. And you will do exactly what I say, as I say it, when I say it." Shepard leaned over her, a malevolent silhouette blurred with red fire against the fluorescent work lights. "Won't you?"

"Yes, Commander."

"And when I've finished with that lying, blue hole, I am going to fill your other, lying, blue holes. I am going to work them as hard as I please. I am going to take them in every way they can be taken. I am going to take them whenever I want them. And you, lying, blue little bitch, are going to be eternally grateful for my favor," he rasped. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Eternally grateful."

"Yes, sir."

"Say it."

"I will be eternally grateful for your favor. Sir."

Liara swallowed, hard, leaned forward, and set to the task.

Shepard had been nude since springing from his Medbay bed, but Liara had been too staggered with fear to really take him in. For the first time, she found herself on eye level with it, able to see clearly and unobstructed at last. Her heart palpitated at the sheer girth of his human organ. Rude, pulsating veins snaked and twined from the scrotum all the way to the glans. The testes danced, rhythmically, contracting up and together and relaxing down and apart. Liara was hypnotized. She'd never seen a penis before. Not in real life. Only in holovids.

As she reached out and placed a hand hesitantly on the shaft, she cooed in surprise as the foreskin slithered back. If anything, this just made the glans swell bigger and tighter. Sneaking a quick glance up, Liara dipped her head forward and nestled her nose at the root. Then sweetly, deliberately, she dragged her rough, purple tongue along the underside of its length, just as she'd seen the celebrities do in her vids. The Commander's short grunt of approval emboldened her, so she did it again, applying more leverage and squeezing the base of his prick tightly between forefinger and thumb.

It was working. Shepard's glans started to drool.

Gasping and mewling, Liara's head darted forward to catch the fluid on her tongue. Her firm, plump lips constructed on the rim of his corona, and she drew back incrementally. Her cheeks hollowed as she gave the organ an experimental suck. A dark, musky odor filled her senses, overpowering her. The Asari had keen pheromone sensory organs, and the heady scent of the Commander sent a paroxysm of lust cascading down her frame. She moaned with her mouth full.

"Your tongue. Like I said."

Liara nodded, bobbing her head up and down, and then began dragging the soft sides of her tongue in gentle, lazy circles around Shepard's glans. She was rewarded for her efforts with additional ribbons of clear fluid, which she milked out and swallowed dutifully. In her belly, the pheromones began working on her from the inside. Mewling again, she circled her tongue faster, prompting yet more to fill her mouth. The cycle continued.

Shepard grimaced during this treatment. In truth, it had been a very long time. Things were going poorly with the war, and shore leave had been more about ryncol with Wrex and Garrus than anything amorous for the last few months. He was backed up, that much was clear.

"Open wide." His tone brooked no argument.

Liara unhinged her jaw and tried desperately to relax her tongue flat. The commander seized the sides of her head and began to slide his throbbing tool in and out of her mouth, thrusting with short, brisk strokes before allowing his thrusts to become long, deep, and slow. His callused palms scraping against her head crest multiplied her lust, and she moaned with her mouth full, feeling the delight that came of being a receptacle for the Commander's pleasure. If this is what he wanted, she would provide.

Liara was drooling and salivating, inebriated with the irresistible cocktail of pheromones Shepard's stunning body gave off. She tried to make her mouth even softer, opening and inviting him inside, rolling her tongue on his ridge at strategic moments, and sucking him insistently on his outstrokes, resisting them. Through it all, she kept her plump lips pursed firmly on the shaft of his cock, subtly limiting the return flow of his blood and forcing his torturous organ to swell still more nascent. He was getting close.

"Your blue whore mouth is a nice sleeve for my cock. That's a good girl. Suck it all up and get a treat."

Liara increased the rate of her swirling tongue, coaxing and cajoling the commander's climax out of him. Her stomach roiled with anticipation at the prospect of her reward. She was beside herself.

The commander groaned low in his throat, and began to ejaculate.

Liara keened in ecstasy, her voice vibrating his shaft in tandem with his grunts and moans. Thick, salty, delicious gobs of human cream were jetting into her insatiable mouth, covering her sweetly textured tongue and causing her to shudder with euphoria. She gripped the base of his cock tighter, drawing her clasped fingers up towards the glans, forcing the last few clingy drops up and out of his meatus as she'd seen in her vids. The cloying, meaty, earthy bouquet of his seed spoke to the deepest, darkest, primal place inside her. She wished his giving would never end.

Finally, the last few drops had been teased and pulled from the tip of his angry prick. She looked up at him, swallowing cutely, feeling the viscous jelly coat her throat and stomach, suddenly nervous and unpossessed. A single, crystalline strand of clear goo ran from his weeping slit to the corner of her mouth. It glistened in the harsh light.

Shepard returned her look, his face inscrutable. Then, before she could process a thing, he had her up on her feet, fingers gripping callously.

"Over the table, blue bitch. Spread those pretty little legs."

Liara shuddered with anticipation and pleasure, feeling the fluid leak from her violet cunt into her panties. The time was now. The time of her giving was here.

She bent over the table, gingerly finding a place for her palms amidst the shattered glass, making the offering of herself as enticing as she might. She spread her thighs slightly wider, willing him to mount her, beside herself with charnel desire.

And when she could wait no longer, he was there.

Liara cooed and muttered unintelligibly as Shepard's cruel hands ran up and down her luscious frame. Her breasts hung pendulously down, perfect azure globes begging to be teased and molested. She willed him to undress her, anticipating the sensation, anticipating her revelation to him and giving up the last vestige of dignity and power. Once she was naked in his arms, she knew that she would be his entirely. She ached for his touch, for his mastery.

Liara's hissing intake of breath was matched by her sign of gratification as Shepard's hands tore her body suit at the seams. The fabric yielded and split, gossamer strands left behind, her clothing broken and disrespected instead of merely removed. Shepard grunted as he continued pulling at the suit, tearing it off a scrap at a time, until the waist and below was hanging in tatters on the floor.