kauriart

[kauriart]

Paragon, Renegade, Pilot Chapter 09: Indefinitely

A NSFW Mass Effect fic | Joker/Kaidan/f!Shepard | Read it on AO3

The second time isn’t the last time, either.

Not even close.

In bed, Kaidan is all coiled intensity and unbelievably tactile. He almost never stops touching or kissing Joker, and like, absolutely no complaints. Zero complaints.

Kaidan finds bare skin, unerringly. Trails fingertips down the side of Joker’s neck or up his belly, the touch ticklish and arousing, even though he’s sure Kaidan doesn’t mean it to be. Sometimes the touches are pointed, and focused on turning Joker on, but other times they’re almost absentminded, as though Kaidan touches him because he likes it, and for no other reason.

Wild.

Most days, they take turns jerking each other off all over Joker’s apartment, and sometimes Kaidan gets extra handsy and presses slick fingers up inside Joker’s ass, thrusting with that careful, measured insistence until Joker comes so hard he sees stars.  

It never progresses beyond that. Since that time in the shower, Kaidan has never come so close to taking things further. Even once when he’d wrangled Joker out of his pants and maneuvered him down, chest to the bed and ass in the air, he’d only lain himself against Joker’s hips and thighs, rock-hard and panting. Then he’d slid off and made Joker come just like that, with his knees splayed, and his ass up, and that was still something even if it wasn't technically more.

And Joker wants more. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it.

So yeah. The coping is good. The coping is real good.

But it’s not like that every night.

Some nights, they can’t keep Shepard at bay, and Kaidan curls up in Joker’s arms, shaking with the force of his sobs. It’s ugly, the grief. Catches them unawares.

Some nights, Kaidan gets one of his headaches, and they spend their evening lying silently in the dark, in the narrow space of Joker’s bed. Kaidan lays his head across Joker’s chest, and Joker listens to the catch of Kaidan’s breath as it slowly, slowly steadies. His fingertips trace little random whorls across Kaidan’s temple until he falls asleep. And Joker curls himself around what they’ve shared, around the warm afterglow of Kaidan’s kisses, and Kaidan’s touch, and Kaidan, wrapped up, and sleeping in his arms.

It’s coping. Joker reminds himself firmly. It’s just coping. Kaidan just needs something to keep his mind off his misery.

But Joker is having a harder and harder time pretending this is just casual, meaningless sex. And when Kaidan is touching him, it’s nearly impossible not to spill his infatuation all over them both. He swallows a dozen I love yous so far back he can barely breathe, and the lie of it all grows sour on the back of his tongue. 

***

It’s bad news. He can tell at once from Dr Chakwas’ voice at the other end of the call. It’s too measured, too careful. 

“I’ve had a message from Alliance command,” she says. “They’re insisting on a full investigation into the events on Alchera. They want to be certain your escape pod was damaged prior to, or upon landing.” 

“Why would that matter?” Joker asks. He and Karin have kept up weekly calls since they returned to the Citadel and Joker was released from the hospital. Before Kaidan, she was the only person he ever got to speak to on a regular basis.

“You almost died. They want to determine if the injuries you sustained were avoidable, or…” Dr Chakwas trails off. Joker can imagine the tiny frown on her face perfectly. “Or, if you’ll be critically injured in any successful escape pod drop.”

Joker’s eyes narrow. “Tell them not to worry. I’m not getting into an escape pod ever again.”

“Jeff…”

“You know. Whatever, whatever. It’s just an excuse. It doesn’t matter. You know the Alliance doesn’t actually care about my ability to survive something like that again.”

“I agree,” Dr Chakwas says. “But pending the outcome of the investigation, they’ve upgraded the duration of your medical leave.”

Joker exhales through his nose. This isn’t the first time. The fuckers keep extending his leave. “How long this time?”

“I’ve already submitted a formal objection to dispute the—”

“How long?”

A pause on the line.

Joker feels a small spike of fear in his gut.

“Karin …”

“Indefinitely.”

Joker is glad it’s a call, so that Dr Chakwas doesn’t have to see the look on his face. “Indefinitely…Yeah. Okay.”

“They’ll continue to pay you your usual salary, Jeff. I insisted.”

“So they’re willing to pay me to do nothing, but they’re not willing to pay me to fly.” He tugs down on the brim of his cap in irritation. “Assholes. Well. Thanks for the update.”

“Jeff …”

“No, I mean it,” he says, voice softening. Since the moment they met, Karin Chakwas has had his back. “I know you’re pulling for me. I appreciate it. Really.”

Dr Chakwas is quiet for several beats before the conversation slides back into its usual shape. She asks him about his pain levels, and he lies, and she asks about his meds, and he lies even harder. She hesitates, but doesn’t press the matter, and he knows he’s not on his game today because lying to Dr Chakwas has become his new favorite hobby since Alchera, and he’s gotten pretty damn good at it.

When the call disconnects, Joker slides down to the floor next to his bed, feeling numb. Technically, nothing has changed for him. He wasn’t flying before. He isn’t flying now. The Alliance is mad at him for Shepard’s death, well, get in fucking line.

He doesn’t fall to pieces because his world is collapsing.

He doesn’t need to, because it’s already collapsed. 

***

That night, Kaidan asks to come over, and for a minute, Joker thinks of telling him not to. He’s been wallowing in self-pity all day and just knows he’s gonna be horrible company tonight. But it’s Kaidan, and Joker loves him, even if he’s secretly certain that one day he’s gonna walk away and break Joker’s heart.

So he says yes.

An hour later, the security system pings his arrival, and when Joker answers the door, he’s greeted by two bags overflowing with groceries. He scoots out of the way because he’s not about to save the burliest marine he’s ever known from whatever the hell is happening. 

“Tonight, I am making steak,” Kaidan announces happily and buffs a brief hello kiss onto Joker’s cheek in passing. “They were on sale, and you finally have a decent pan.”

“I’m confused,” Joker says.

“What? You said you like steak.”

“I do. I just don’t understand this. Delivery exists. Jesus, my arms hurt just looking at you.”

Kaidan just deposits the groceries on the counter and grins.

“That’s like two weeks of food,” Joker says, watching him unpack.

“It’ll be gone this weekend, trust me. The Alliance wanted to regrade my biotics today. All I want to do is eat my weight in mashed potatoes and get in your pants.”

It’s not enough. 

Once he had the stars. Now his world is a 600 square foot apartment with ugly carpet, no furniture, and one decent pan. And if he didn’t have Kaidan… He rubs a hand over the top of his hat. He needs to put his hands on a flight screen. All day, his hands have felt so empty.

“I want more,” Joker says quietly, surprising himself.

Kaidan pauses his rummaging to look up at Joker. For a split second, his typically measured gaze looks hungry. But then Joker blinks and it’s gone, replaced by the look he gets when he’s thinking hard. “More what?” he asks gently.

“Fuck.” Joker snags one of the potatoes in the act of rolling off the counter and tosses it back and forth between his hands a few times before setting it aside. “I dunno. I’m just being stupid today. It’s no big deal. Just… I’m fine, okay? Just forget about  it.”

Kaidan’s expression shifts into a true frown. “More what?”

More everything.

Joker shrugs one shoulder. “I love—” Don’t fucking say it. He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, exhausted down to his very bones. “I love what we’re doing. It’s just… maybe it’s just today, or something. Fuck, I don’t know.” 

Kaidan reaches out and runs a hand up and down the center of Joker’s chest, looking worried. “What happened today?”

“Oh. Um… was hoping to get cleared today. Didn’t happen,” he says. Won’t ever happen, he doesn’t say, because he can’t bear to say those words out loud. “I mean, other than that, things are great. You’re great. This is great. It’s great.”

“Great…” The smile doesn’t quite reach Kaidan’s eyes. And then it does. “I think it’s great too,” he says very quietly and very seriously.

Despite himself, Joker feels a little flutter in his belly. Some little bubble of warmth amongst the nonsense he’s been feeling all day.

Kaidan runs his hand up and down Joker’s chest again. “The more that you want… it isn’t just flying, is it? It’s… us, too?”

“I can’t—I…” Joker drags a hand over the top of his hat and leaves it there, fingers digging into the curve of his skull. “It doesn’t seem right to complain about the best part of my life right now. You. Being with you.” He drops his hand and smiles at Kaidan. A real smile, even if it’s small and strained. “Mashed potatoes and pants-stuff sounds amazing. Seriously. I’m down. So down.” 

Kaidan’s eyes are serious. “It’s okay to want more from this,” he says. “From me.”

Joker does laugh then, a breathless, hopeless chuckle that’s a little wild around the edges because Kaidan has no fucking idea.

“So do you?” Kaidan takes a step closer. “Want more from me?”

No. fucking. idea.

The barest hesitation, and then Joker nods, keeping his head tipped down so the brim of his hat obscures his eyes. He exhales sharply through his nose, a swoopy feeling all in his gut, like too many g-forces all at once.

“Okay.” Kaidan breathes, and Joker risks a glance at him because it shouldn’t be that easy. Nothing has ever been that easy. “Okay,” Kaidan says again, voice certain, mouth kinked up into a soft smile. He sets his hands on Joker’s hips.

“It’s okay to not,” Joker blurts out. “Want more, I mean. From me. It’s okay if…” He looks back down at his feet. “If you––”

“Hey,” Kaidan cups Joker’s face, and raises it carefully for a kiss, brief but firm. “I’ve been trying to take it slow because I wasn’t sure what you wanted. It feels… This is all pretty new, and I want to get it right.”

Joker’s chest feels tight. “I… You’re getting everything right as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah?” A brief grin, bright as the sun, and Kaidan takes a step closer and wraps him up in an enormous hug. He’s solid against Joker and incredibly warm. Hot even, like he’s feverish. But it’s not that. Kaidan’s built up heat beneath his skin from all the biotics and needs to vent it out of his system.

Joker makes an inarticulate, but hopefully agreeable sound, and Kaidan chuckles and just holds him tighter. Minutes pass. And Joker lets out a long breath and feels some of that terrible uneasiness slowly, slowly, slowly settle.

“There we go,” Kaidan whispers huskily, not moving, not pulling back.

Joker closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Kaidan murmurs, dragging his mouth carefully against Joker’s neck, half kiss and half something that makes Joker’s knees unsteady. “Not for this. Not ever.” The muscles of Kaidan’s back bunch and shift as he runs a hand up and down Joker’s spine, tracing long loops across his shoulder blades. “God, you feel good like this.”

Nothing changes, but everything shifts. Joker digs his fingertips into the meat of Kaidan’s shoulders to anchor himself, feeling like he’s melting away in all that heat. He presses his hips more firmly against Kaidan, feeling squirmy and suddenly unsettled. Like all the tension he’d bled out is just racing back up the backs of his legs.

One of Kaidan’s hands slides firmly down Joker’s body and over the curve of his ass. It stays there, grip spanning an entire buttock.

Joker blows out an unsteady breath.

“Mmmm?” The noise Kaidan makes is deeply content and laced with heat. Joker can feel the curl of a smirk against his neck. His other hand drops down to Joker’s ass, pulling his hips closer. 

Joker’s breath catches a little, and then a lot as he feels how hard Kaidan is pressed against him. He raises his chin and kisses Kaidan, long and lingering, relishing the way Kaidan automatically deepens the kiss, mouth opening beneath his own. He’s kissed Kaidan like this about a hundred times now — enough to last a lifetime, and yet not enough at all. He makes a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat, and feels the way Kaidan’s hands tighten possessively on his ass in response.

It’s not the first time Joker’s noticed that Kaidan’s mood shifts whenever he leans too heavily on his biotics. Something about it burns away some of that measured restraint of his, and Kaidan gets this cocky swagger that Joker finds kinda irresistible, honestly.

“Hey, how about pants stuff first, and then mashed potatoes?” Joker breaks the kiss long enough to ask breathlessly.

Kaidan doesn’t bother answering; he just scoops Joker up, lifting him bodily off the floor, wrapping his legs around his hips, and carries him straight into the bedroom. And oh fuck.

Big fan of being manhandled by Kaidan, apparently. Who knew?

Kaidan deposits him on his back on the bed before peeling Joker out of his shirt, and then removing his own. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen Kaidan naked, or nearly so — his heart skips a beat every time. Joker reaches out and drags a hand across all that bronze skin and densely packed muscle. His thumb scuffs against one of Kaidan’s nipples, liking the way it draws taut as Kaidan arches against his touch, breath stuttering.

“No.” Kaidan grabs at Joker’s hand and pulls it away, planting a kiss against his palm to lessen any sting. He folds Joker’s arms carefully so Joker’s hands are behind his head, squeezing like he wants Joker to keep them there. “I want to touch you .”

Joker nods, eyes wide as Kaidan kisses his way down the inside of his arm, ticklish against his armpit. He drags his tongue across Joker’s chest and licks at his nipple before drawing the tight bud of it into his heated mouth. Joker jerks, and then moans as one of Kaidan’s hands returns to his wrists, crossed behind his head, and helps hold him steady. Kaidan sucks hard, moving from one nipple to the other, pinging little bursts of pleasure across Joker’s chest.

One of Kaidan’s hands moves between Joker’s legs, cupping his cock briefly beneath the thin fabric before working open the fastenings of his fly. Joker’s breath catches as he slips a hand inside. Kaidan’s palm feels incredibly, impossibly hot against sensitive skin, and Joker squirms a little, gasping, back arching off the bed. His cock springs out between them, bare and flushed and hard as steel.

Kaidan just tightens his grip.

And then, he drops down to his knees in front of Joker.

Is he?

No way, no way, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck––

“Let me?” Kaidan husks leaning closer.

Joker has no idea if it’s a question or not. But all he can manage is a single sound of need, breathy and raw and ragged with want, and Kaidan bends, and presses his lips against the very base of Joker’s cock. He looks up, eyes meeting Joker’s.

A strained burst of breath from Joker, raw and a little hysterical.

Kaidan Alenko’s mouth is on his cock.

Oh fuck.

Kaidan squeezes Joker’s trapped wrists, just once, before sliding both hands against Joker’s thighs, and begins to mouth his way carefully up Joker’s cock. The kisses are tiny, and teasing, and terribly arousing. Each time there’s that soft brush of that heated contact, a little, broken noise escapes Joker.

Pleasure hooks into his belly as Kaidan reaches the head of Joker’s cock. He scuffs his thumb over the tip and around the flared head, smearing the precome that’s already begun to leak out. Then Kaidan brings his slick and shiny thumb up to his mouth for a taste, skimming it deliberately across his tongue, which is hot hot hot, and seared into Joker’s brain for all of time.

And Joker has about two solid seconds to worry that Kaidan dislikes the taste of him before Kaidan leans forward and seals his lips around the tip of Joker’s cock, sucking firmly, tongue restless against the tiny slit. And oh fuck. Kaidan’s mouth is pure heat. Pure bliss. All the muscles in Joker’s belly go taut, and he makes a sharp-sounding groan.

It’s— a whole ‘nother level. Like this, Joker can’t even pretend they’re just helping each other masturbate away the grief and guilt. This. This is… Jesus fuck, this is heaven.

Just one more thing that Kaidan’s phenomenal at.

Kaidan takes more of Joker, sliding about halfway down, then up, then down again. He keeps a steady, sucking pressure as he bobs. His cock twitches in Kaidan’s mouth, and he dribbles a little more precome. He can already tell that it’s going to be the world’s shortest blowjob because there’s no way he can last. 

No fucking way.

Joker’s hands clench and unclench, wanting to tangle themselves in Kaidan’s hair. Wanting to thrust up into Kaidan’s mouth. Wanting. Just wanting. And then Kaidan takes more of Joker into his mouth, going slow, but deep, making an appreciative sort of noise that Joker can feel rumbling in his balls, as he slides all. the way. down.

Joker makes a wrecked sound, hips jerking, and grabs his own head to keep from reaching for Kaidan. The tips of his fingers ache.

Kaidan resumes bobbing, sliding down to the very base of Joker each time. All the way up, and all the way down, and—

“Kaidan. Kaidan, I’m gonna come,” Joker pants brokenly. “If you don’t want— You should… You should…”

Kaidan pulls off with a smirk. “It’s okay, I need the protein.” He says and swallows Joker’s cock down nearly to the base again.

“That’s—” fuck.

Joker spills and feels Kaidan swallow fully around his cock, before being swept away by an orgasm that’s like an undertow. It takes his legs out, drags him under, and he’s just helpless and shaking, unable to breathe or think, just feel; Kaidan, swallowing again, and again, and again, one hand clutched around the base of him to keep him steady, the other petting soothingly against his thigh.

It feels like fucking forever before that rush of sensation lets him free, and he gasps, dragging air into his lungs like a drowning man.

Kaidan just keeps going, maintaining that firm sucking pressure, still bobbing up and down, drawing out the pleasure of orgasm into something spiky with intensity. Joker moans, thrashing slightly as Kaidan holds his hips steady. It’s a straight-up signature move of Kaidan’s to keep going after he’s come, but it never gets any easier.

“Kaidan…” Joker’s hand flies to the back of Kaidan’s head, and then back up to his own again. He covers his face with his hands as that burn of pleasure sharpens into the unbearable intensity of over-stimulation. “K-Kaidan… God– –”

Kaidan takes one last long, torturous pull of his cock, sucking extra firmly before pulling off with a wet pop and a wide smile.

Joker gasps and shudders, going limp. That was all of 13 fucking seconds, and he’s completely wrecked. He doubts he could manage to stand, let alone walk. One of his legs is still shaking. 

“That… I was… Holy shit,” he gasps, breathing hard.

Kaidan rubs both of Joker’s thighs and grins. “Good?”

A laugh, so breathless it nearly fades away entirely. “Jesus, you have no idea.” Joker slings an arm over Kaidan’s neck and cranes up for a kiss. Kaidan makes a pleased sound, catching his jaw to kiss him back, deeper than before. Joker can taste himself in Kaidan’s mouth, all salt and a bitter earthiness. 

Kaidan stands, and Joker lifts a hand between his legs and finds Kaidan rock hard in his pants. He rubs down the length of Kaidan’s cock, tracing the shape of it.

“I think it’s my turn,” he says raggedly.

Kaidan watches, eyes dark and hungry, as Joker carefully works open the fastenings on his pants and pulls them down a bit. Kaidan’s cock springs out, almost smacking Joker square in the face. It looks huge from this angle, and so hard that the veins are standing out. It takes only the smallest tug for Kaidan’s foreskin to slide down, exposing the entire head of his cock. This close, Kaidan’s dick is a little intimidating. He chuckles breathlessly and loops his arms around Kaidan’s thighs, drawing him closer.

Kaidan lifts Joker’s chin gently. “You don’t… I don’t have any expectations,” Kaidan murmurs, voice all quiet husk.

“Yeah? Noted.” Joker breathes, thinking of all the times he’d imagined making Kaidan come with only his mouth. He parts his lips, and Kaidan slips a thumb inside, just a little, just enough to brush against Joker’s tongue.

Kaidan exhales hard, eyes fixed on Joker’s mouth.

Joker nips at him, teeth digging into the pad of his thumb, and Kaidan exhales harder, pressing his thumb a little deeper before pulling back.

Fuck.

Well, that boners gonna come back real quick.

Joker pulls Kaidan closer, until the tip of Kaidan’s cock brushes against his lips. He licks them reflexively, tasting salt, and something faint, and brightly ozone, almost… almost like lightning. Joker wonders if Kaidan’s biotics affect the flavor of his come, and licks at the tip for another taste before sucking the entire head into his mouth. 

Kaidan tips his head back, eyes half-closed in bliss, but he moans Joker’s name, and Joker’s eyes go wide because Kaidan isn’t imagining he’s being touched by someone else.

Joker’s grip tightens, possessive.

And Kaidan says his name again, breathy and soft, and his hips jerk a little, fucking himself into Joker’s mouth a little. A restless back and forth before he stills again.

“I want to see it in your mouth, Joker. Can I… Please?” Kaidan rests gentle fingers on the brim of Joker’s hat, waiting. When Joker nods, Kaidan doesn’t take it off, just spins his hat around, until the brim is facing backwards. “There. That’s so…” He traces the corners of Joker’s lips where they’re stretched around his cock.

Joker moans, mouth filling with the flavor of salt and lightning as Kaidan spills more precome. He pulls back so he can swallow without drooling, but keeps his lips pressed to the slick tip. Takes a full, clear breath before pressing himself back down, bobbing, taking a little more of Kaidan each time.

“How much can you fit?” Kaidan husks, his fingertips swirl on the top of Joker’s head, not pressing, but just there. 

Probably not all of it, he thinks. He’s out of practice for one thing. And for another, Kaidan is positively hung.

But goddamnit, he is going to try.

He takes a careful breath through his nose and slides down until Kaidan’s cock bumps against the back of his throat, gagging slightly at the sensation. He feels a thread of drool slide down his chin, but Kaidan whisks it away with his palm before cupping Joker’s jaw, holding him steady. Joker can feel all the coiled tension in Kaidan’s thighs, all that careful need. He makes a messy, broken sound, and Kaidan’s fingers tighten, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t press forward, just holds him in place, lightning on his tongue.

Joker covers the rest of what doesn’t easily fit with his hand, which feels like…a whole dicksworth of cock. He bobs a little, trying to swallow on the downstroke, trying to let Kaidan into his throat, but the angle is terrible, and he gags, and keeps gagging each time he tries.

(Maybe his hyper-realistic sex dreams weren’t so hyper-realistic after all. In his dreams, he always had no trouble deep throating Kaidan. He could just blow him for hours and swallow every drop, no problem.)

“Here… lean back,” Kaidan presses him down to the bed, hand moving over himself as he repositions Joker, and slides all the way out of his pants before clambering over him, keeping his weight carefully braced and off of Joker’s chest.

Joker pulls him closer until Kaidan’s directly above, and he can suck at Kaidan’s balls, feeling fragile skin against his lips and tongue. Kaidan jerks himself off as Joker laps at him, alternating between one ball and the other. He smells muskier here, but not unpleasantly. Something raw and real and deeply male. Joker takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his own cock twitches in response.

Then Kaidan shifts his hips. “Open,” he asks softly.

Joker opens his mouth and Kaidan guides his cock inside, tip slicker and saltier than before. He can tell at once that the angle is better, but like this, flat on his back, he can’t really bob or control anything; he just tries to breathe and swallow in rhythm as Kaidan slowly fucks into his mouth.

“I’m going to go a little deeper,” Kaidan says, hips flexing. He keeps the same, steady rhythm, but each thrust goes a bit deeper, right to the juncture of Joker’s throat, and then into it.

The angle is easier, but it doesn’t mean that it’s easy. Kaidan’s cock is thick and long, and more than once it bottoms out past what Joker can take, and he gags messily. But Kaidan doesn’t seem to mind; he just backs up, breath unsteady. “Fuck that’s amazing…” Kaidan husks. “That’s perfect.” And Joker shivers, and wants Kaidan to go too deep again, if only for the way it wrecks his voice.

It gets easier after a while, he can better anticipate those deeper thrusts, and Joker starts to sink into the sensation of deepthroating Kaidan. He squirms a little on the bed, moaning around Kaidan’s cock.

“You’re hard,” Kaidan breathes, delighted.

Joker makes a sound that might have been a laugh if his mouth weren’t so full. There’s no way he wasn’t getting hard again, given everything.

“Touch yourself for me,” Kaidan says, voice rough.

He drops a hand to his cock. It’s fully hard, but over-sensitive, and slightly tacky. He tries a few experimental tugs, automatically settling into a pace that matches the thrust of Kaidan’s hips. He moans again because it’s all pretty fucking hot.

“Can you come again, do you think?” Kaidan asks.

And Joker makes a broken sound, part agreement, part dismay, because he totally can, and he knows it’s gonna feel amazing to come again, but also way too intense.

“Yeah,” Kaidan chuckles. “Try not to come until after I do.”

Joker does laugh at that, because he’s super duper bad at not coming, and then promptly gags, and then gags again as Kaidan picks up the pace. His own hand speeds up to match, the pleasure of it spiky and bright. And he realizes that if he keeps this up, he’ll have about thirty seconds before he blows his load.

His hand stills, gripping at the base of his cock, desperate.

“Not long now… Not long…” Kaidan mutters, still thrusting.

Distantly, Joker hears the sounds he’s making, overwhelmed and messy. He’s gagging more, losing coordination to the heat pooling in his gut, threatening to spill over and out of him. God, if he moves his hand even a little, he’s going to come.

And then Kaidan makes a deep, shattered sound, which officially becomes Joker’s favorite thing he’s ever heard. A thick flood of salt and Joker swallows, and keeps swallowing, even as Kaidan’s come spills down his chin.

When Kaidan pulls out, Joker takes a deep, strangled breath, hand still locked around his cock.

“Let go, Joker. Let go for me,” Kaidan pries his hand away and grips Joker’s cock, stroking firmly.

And then Kaidan is kissing him, deep and messy and tasting entirely of come, and Joker arches into his touch, overwrought. And the tension within him snaps with the suddenness of a thunderclap, and he’s coming hard, spilling over Kaidan’s fingers, the sensation sharp and hot fucking good.

Kaidan makes a pleased sound, and keeps going, and it’s instantly too much. Joker sobs into his mouth, arching away, and Kaidan squeezes tightly, one long, slow tug from base to tip that’s nothing but aching over-stimulation, wringing the last bit of come from him. And then, he lets go.

Joker collapses back onto the bed, gasping. Completely undone. He’s not sure how long they lie like that, side by side, basking in the afterglow of a pair of orgasms that have probably ruined him for life. Kaidan keeps kissing him, tenderly, slowly, interspersed between rubbing at his collarbones, his chest, and his belly, heedless of the mess.

“I need a shower,” Joker complains. “But if I move, I’ll die.”

The look on Kaidan’s face is too genuinely satisfied to be a smirk. “I’ll help you get cleaned up as soon as I get dinner started.”

“You super don’t have to. You can just lie here in a puddle, like me. We can do this for the rest of the night.”

“Can’t. My mashed potatoes are gonna blow your mind. Garlic. Whole grain mustard. Enough butter to drown in.”

“Yeah? Sounds amazing.” Joker cracks open an eye and closes it again. “But it’s gonna have to be pretty legendary to top that pants stuff. How confident are you in your potato game?”

Kaidan laughs and slides easily off the bed before bending to plant a single kiss against Joker’s sweaty brow. He reaches and spins Joker’s hat around until it’s back in its proper place. “Pretty damn confident.”

[kauriart]

Sorry, me again.

I've decided to re-read Letters from Orlais (and probably most of your other work) while waiting for the next chapter of <Paragon, Renegade, Pilot> and I am, once again, reminded that you are absolutely my favourite fanfic writer of all times.

Just thought I'd let you know. Thank you for sharing your talent with us.

*ugly cries* this is the nicest ask ever! <3 <3 <3 I had to re-read a few chapters after this, and I super got sucked back in. I found a new format for my docs that makes workin on multi-chapter fics SO much easier for me, and is a big reason I've been cranking them out for Paragon, Renegade, Pilot. *fingers crossed* I can get something started with Letters of Orlais too.

[kauriart]

An Open Contract

Chapter 2: Contract Effective Date

A NSFW Mass Effect fic | Zaeed x Miranda | Read it on AO3

When the doors to Purgatory slide open, the terrible atmosphere hits Zaeed like a hangover — one step inside and he regrets everything. He’s never liked bars that can’t be described as seedy as fuck. He’s much more comfortable in dimly lit places where you keep your eyes to yourself, and your hands to yourself, and you conduct yourself like a goddamn adult, or you get stabbed.

Purgatory isn’t one of those places. Instead it’s brimful flashing pink and blue lights, thumpy techno music, and the type of drunk Alliance twats Zaeed finds the most punchable. Probably zero stabbing, too. No fucking way he’d be here if it wasn’t for Miranda Lawson and their contract.

He’s still not sure how he feels about it. Sure, he’s a big fan of both money and sex, and has exchanged one for the other countless times, though never in this precise order before. He’d spent all last night imagining what he’d do to her when he got the chance. Then he slept poorly, plagued by dreams of those perfect fucking tits, and had to jack himself off first thing in the morning like some goddamn teenager with an over-eager cock and no self-control. 

He’d spent most of the day annoyed and semi-hard, though he’d kept himself busy with recon for Shepard, memorizing schematics of the Hahne-Kedar facility they're planning to hit on Capek. Shepard had promised it would be brimful of mechs, and while Zaeed is in his element with enemies he can overwhelm and panic — and light on fire — he wants to test drive his new loadout with some mobs he can count on to shoot at him a helluva lot.

Zaeed spots Miranda at the bar as soon as he rounds the corner, all sleekly jutting hips and long legs and he feels a twitch of interest at the base of his cock. It cuts through some of his sour mood. It’s a novelty knowing how the night is going to end. Not a lot of sure things in his usual line of work.

“You know, half the people in this bar want to fuck you,” Zaeed says by way of greeting, leaning his forearms on the bartop. The music is loud enough that he has to lean close so they’re not overheard.

Miranda’s eyes scan the room quickly. “It’s probably more than half.” The way she says it makes it clear it’s a straight observation. She's not trying to flirt or be coy.

“Too bad for them, but that’s my job tonight.”

“Emphasis on the job,” she reminds him, with an arch of a dark brow.

Zaeed chuckles darkly. “Oh, I ain’t forgotten.” He lifts a thick lock of inky hair off Miranda’s shoulder with the back of his hand, the gesture almost tender. “You better smile at me like I’m the handsomest little shit in the entire galaxy if you don’t want the crew to get wise.”

“Then you better buy me a drink.”

“Aw fuck,” Zaeed complains, but motions to the bartender to pour them both a second of whatever Miranda’s been having. “Forgot to ask for an expense budget. Fucking rookie mistake. Never going to negotiate with my cock hanging out in the wind again.”

Miranda laughs, the sound small and a little bubbly, and he wonders if it’s a real laugh as she saunters away from the bar top and towards a booth in the corner. Zaeed watches her as he waits for the drinks. She draws a lot of attention from humans and aliens alike. Some of it discrete, some of it less so, some of it openly lascivious. She’s easily the best-looking person in Purgatory, though he’d be the first to admit that if one of the Turians or Salarians had a leg up on her, he’d never be able to tell.

The bartender sets two horrific-looking drinks down in front of Zaeed. Salarian Sunrise , he calls it, though the drink is clearly human in origin. Salarians don’t bother topping their drinks with god awful nonsense like little twists of fruit, and pink and yellow striped straws— don’t live long enough for the fucking bother of it all. The drinks are served in a pair of tall, chilled glasses, the liquid inside an electric blue throughout, lightening to a pale lemon yellow, and rimmed with bright pink sugar crystals.

“You’re fucking joking,” Zaeed glares at the bartender’s retreating back.

He sniffs suspiciously at his drink and then takes a small sip. Fruity, with a sugary afterburn that hits like a punch to the dick. He can feel the heavy scrape of alcohol against his tongue, but the taste of it is mellowed. Not bad.

Fucking ridiculous, but not bad.

He’s down half his glass by the time he makes it to the booth Miranda is occupying. “Next time we do this, I’m ordering the drinks myself,” Zaeed says. “I think less of us both right about now.”

“They’re fun,” Miranda says pointedly. “You’re supposed to have fun drinks on a date.”

“Is this a date then?” Zaeed smirks. “Seems like a waste of time to me. I already know you want to get in my pants.”

“I already know you’re going to let me.”

Zaeed clinks his glass against hers with a wink. But as he finishes the rest of his Salarian Sunrise, Joker Moreau slides into the booth beside Miranda, already laughing and holding a mostly full beer.

“See that Turian general there,” Joker gestures with his glass. “The one with the, uh…” he cuts himself off, faltering, glancing at the pair of them. “Wait, are you—”

“Out,” Zaeed leans forward and glares.

Joker blinks, looking between Miranda and Zaeed, taking in the pair of frilly drinks and the way they’re both scrunched together in a booth large enough for ten. His eyes widen with realization. “Oh. Oh! Oh shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt your, um. Hey. What’s that Tali is saying? I’m gonna go now. Over there. Quickly.” He slides out of the bench, then leans back over for his beer, wincing. “Please don’t shoot me, okay?”

Zaeed makes a disgusted sound as he scurries away.

Miranda swirls the ice in her glass with her straw. “Cerberus scores pilots across the Systems Alliance, and then ranks them to see who they should keep an eye on. Joker's aptitude scores were almost off the charts in nearly every category. He’s been at the top of the list for seven years. Unrecruitable until now, but top of the list," she takes a sip and props her chin up on her hand. "He’s arguably the best living pilot in the entire Galactic Federation and the Terminus Systems. Certainly the best human one. But... he’s a bit of a gossip.”

Zaeed chuckles and shakes his head at himself. “That’s why you took the booth.”

“That’s why I took the booth,” Miranda agrees mildly.

Zaeed’s mouth kinks up into a teasing smile. “You said this was a date, yeah? Gonna spend the whole time complimenting other men? Let’s hear how I rate on this little list of yours.”

“Quite low,” she nudges him with her shoulder. “Unfortunately, you’re not recognized as a particularly talented pilot.”

“Ha. Fucking, ha.” He flags down a passing waitress and orders them another round of Salarian Sunrises for appearance's sake.

Miranda is silent for a moment when the drinks arrive, twirling the glass in front of her. “It wasn’t a coincidence that you were the first of the crew we assembled,” she says seriously. “You’ve survived things most people wouldn’t believe.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Zaeed snorts. 

“And now we’re fighting things most people wouldn’t believe,” Miranda says. “The world is in need of saving.”

“Yeah? Thought that was Shepard’s job.”

“It is. But we’re already at the point where diplomacy and good intentions aren’t enough on their own. We need insurance. And with you, scorched earth isn’t just a tactic — it’s a signature.”

Zaeed raises his brows and leans back, though there isn’t much room in the booth, legs carefully crossed at the ankles.

“We’re closer to the start of this than the end. And when everything gets ugly — and it will — we need someone who knows what to do when diplomacy fails.” Miranda frowns, blue eyes glinting with steel. “You leave wreckage, true. But where you go, no enemies remain. You finish the job. We didn’t bring you in to play nice — we have Shepard for all the uncomplicated heroics. We brought you in to make sure there’s something left to save when the smoke clears.”

“Huh,” Zaeed is not a man for blushing, so he doesn’t blush. But he still feels a strange sort of… something in the pit of his stomach. It slides down through him like hot wax and sits warm in the cradle of his hips. Yeah. Apparently, being called a competent menace by a pretty girl is a dead turn-on. He downs half his drink in one long swallow.

Miranda slides a finger across the rim of her glass, catching the gritty bits of sugar before sliding them into her mouth and against her tongue.

Zaeed’s cock begins to harden, and suddenly he has no patience for their little act. He needs to fuck this woman cross-eyed and he needs it now. “We done yet?” Beneath the table, Zaeed skims a hand over the top of one of her thighs. “You got a place on the Citadel? Somewhere we can go? I want you loud tonight.” His voice is nearly all quiet growl.

Miranda turns her head away from him. “Wait here for fifteen, then follow. I’ll send you the address.”

Zaeed squeezes her thigh, just once in acknowledgement.

They pantomime a goodbye, and Zaeed is alone in the booth with a hard-on and several empty glasses. He orders himself a round of something properly broody — whiskey and angostura bitters in a stout glass. And then he waits.

Fifteen minutes in Purgatory feels like hell. 

Zaeed glowers. His fingers tap against the top of the table, annoyed. He chugs his drink and thinks hard about ordering another, but decides against it. He doesn’t need to show up for the job on day one, reeling. That’s how you end up doing sloppy work, and Zaeed doesn’t do sloppy work. 

Precisely fifteen minutes later, he gets a ping from Miranda with her address. He slings his jacket over one shoulder, leaves Purgatory — thank fuck — and takes a skycar over to her ward.

The apartment is on the fancy side of the presidium, just above a row of high-end and incredibly overpriced gun shops. He’d tried to buy a mod at one of the kiosks once and nearly punched the salesman in the face when he heard the price. True, they had nearly every — legal — mod available on the market, even stuff that was usually impossible to find. But the thought of paying that much for something he could probably patch together himself made his balls shrivel into raisins. No fucking way.  

When he finds Miranda's door, Zaeed touches the activation pad, smirking when it slides open easily. She’s given him full access. Good girl.

Inside, the apartment is much, much larger than expected. The living room alone is about the size of Normandy’s bridge. It’s richly furnished, and the kind of put together that means someone clearly engaged the services of a professional decorator. Unless Miranda’s father included interior design skills as part of his little build-a-daughter project. Zaeed snorts at the thought.

He drops his sidearm on a nearby chair and unbuckles his harness, discarding the most obnoxious bits of his gear — and a few illegal weapons especially designed to evade the Citadel’s scanners — until he’s down to a black, sleeveless undershirt, cargo pants, and his boots.

He stretches out of reflex. He still has about 10% less range of motion on the right side of his neck and torso from all the scar tissue that has built up over time. It’s worse after long missions, and Shepard doesn’t have anything else, so he’s grown accustomed to limbering his neck and shoulders at every opportunity. 

It’s then that Miranda appears from one of the back rooms. 

She freezes when she sees him, though she doesn’t look startled. She just watches him in that even, calculating way of hers.

She’s clad in only a towel. Damp coils of dark hair lay across her shoulders, skin still wet in places. Fuck. Zaeed grabs his cock through his pants because he’s been fully hard for so long it’s starting to ache. Her eyes dart between his legs and stay there.

But she doesn’t move, so he goes to her.

His boots click on the shiny white floors with each of the fifteen steps it takes to reach her. This close, he can smell the warmth of her skin and the scent of apple blossoms from the soap she’s used. He doesn’t speak, but can’t quite stop the sound of appreciation he makes in the very back of his throat. Her chin raises in the tiniest acknowledgement, and the tiniest challenge.

So Zaeed hooks a finger under the knot at the top of the towel and pulls it loose. The towel spirals into a puddle at her feet.

Goddamn.

Perfect is the only word he can think of to describe Miranda. 

She doesn’t have a mark on her. Not a single bruise or scar. It’s just impossibly smooth, glowing skin and a sharp arrow of dark hair between her legs. He rests a hand on her bare hip and her breath catches, those gorgeous tits rising and falling as she steadies herself. He palms one because he can, thumb sweeping across the nipple for the simple pleasure of watching it draw taut. It’s heavy, and warm, and full in his hand. He twists up the nipple in a firm pinch and uses it to pull her a half step closer until she’s nearly against him.

Zaeed kisses her then, keeping her nipple trapped in his grip, liking the way she squirms against him. Her mouth opens beneath his, and he slips his tongue inside, tasting the echo of that bright, sugary sweetness. She’s already making delicious-sounding noises, all breathless and urgent, and he swallows them down one by one. 

Miranda pulls back enough to work open the buttons on his waistband and then his fly, but stops just short of pulling his cock out, so he does it himself. He’s so hard it’s like a piece of titanium in his hand. He scuffs his thumb across the tip reflexively, smearing precome.

“You want to touch it, yeah? Go on. You paid for it. It’s yours.”

There’s no hesitation in the way she wraps her hand around him. She doesn’t jerk him off, just holds him in a steady, firm grip. It feels possessive, somehow, and fucking good.

“Big, yeah?” he smirks. 

Her mouth twists in wry agreement, eyes flicking up to meet his, all intense, blue heat, like the hottest part of a fire. He pulls her close for another kiss, dragging his hands against her sides, feeling the taper of her waist and the swell of her hips. She’s the perfect height for him, and he cups his hand around her bare ass, fingers digging into meat and muscle.

Zaeed scoops her up, wrapping long legs around his waist, and carries her over to the nearest counter, still kissing her. She cups his cheeks, his jaw, the back of his head, as she kisses him, and he wonders if she can feel the web of scars along the right side of his face, where he’s been blown up and stitched back together again.

He leans her back a little against the counter, and she spreads her legs for him, knees falling open easily. He can’t stop the rumble of approval in the back of his throat. Split open like this she looks like a fucking peach — perfectly ripe and juicy.

So Zaeed maneuvers her knees up to her ears, bends his head, and fucking feasts.

She’s like the sea against his tongue; freshly salt and slick, and he laps at her with long strokes of his tongue, keeping most of his attention on the small swell of her clit. She’s squirmy and noisier than he had imagined. And he’s imagined plenty.

He slips two fingers inside her, working that sweet nub with the calloused pad of his thumb before beginning to thrust in and out of her. There’s nothing easy or slow about the way he fingers her, but Miranda makes the loveliest noises at that, all breathless and needy, so he slings one of her legs over his shoulder and doubles down, setting a ferocious pace.

She comes, he can tell when she does. Her legs try to slap together, body arching, and he can feel her spasm around his fingers. She makes a relieved, gratified sound as the waves of pleasure recede. But he doesn’t slow, our pull out of her, just keeps up that relentless pace. 

“Again,” he growls, pleased. “I want to see if I can make you squirt.”

It doesn’t take long to work her back up to it. She’s wriggly as fuck, ass lifting off the counter, rising to meet the fingers he drills into her cunt. Thank god he’s been doing all that conditioning with Shepard. He can probably keep this up for an hour before his arms tire.

He slips another finger inside and keeps thrusting, thinking of all the ways he wants to have her. Wonders how much of his hand she can take before she reaches her limit. 

“Gods-damned fuck,” he swears under his breath, he swears, imagining.

Miranda slings an arm over his shoulders, and then the other, hands clawing at the meat of his muscles, urging him on. She keens, a fractured sound, half moan, half curse and his palm fills with a sudden spray of warmth as she comes, cunt clenching in helpless spasms.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yeah.” He encourages, one arm clasped around her thigh to keep her still, the other driving into her as she writhes, and shudders, and makes a mess of his thighs and the counter beneath her. “God that’s hot,” he growls and presses his open mouth against her cunt again, tasting her, slick pleasure and savory heat. 

He shifts his fingers inside her, spearing her with his thumb so there’s more space to tongue her. The rest of his fingers tease at her arsehole, rubbing against and around that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. He can feel her clench reflexively beneath his fingertips.

He wants to be able to fuck her for a good long while once he’s inside her. Wants her swollen and sore from his attention. Wants her walking fucking bow legged for a week after he’s done with her. But he’s been hard for so long, there’s no way he can have her now and not come in thirty seconds flat. Not unless he takes matters into his own hands.

“First load is on you, the second one is in you,” Zaeed promises, voice rough and breathless, and wraps a hand around his cock. His palm is slick from her pleasure, the glide easy as he slowly strokes himself.

Miranda watches intently as he jerks off, leg still perched on his shoulder, blue eyes dark and focused on him. She looks well-fucked and exhausted; breasts heaving, skin covered with a thin sheet of sweat, though she’s been doing nothing more than taking what he has given her. And she is so fucking beautiful. He drags a hand from her throat, down between her breasts, and across her stomach, all the way to the shadow of hair between her legs. Her pelvis tips up a little, greedy for touch.

Zaeed’s mouth lifts in a lazy smirk, liking— well, all of it, actually.

He falls into the usual pattern he uses when he touches himself, keeping the strokes short and focused around the head of his cock before sliding down, down, squeezing hard at the base, feeling the throb of himself in his hand. It doesn’t take long at all, just a few rounds of this, and he takes half a step closer, mind pinging between his own need to come, the absolute goddess laid out before him, and the fantasy of utterly painting her with his spend. He wants to shoot it across her breasts and her face and ––

Miranda lifts a hand and presses it to the underside of his balls, touching him with a light caress. And— fucking hell.

Zaeed comes with a curse on his lips that dissolves into a groan. A swell of pleasure races up his core, and he spills in pulses across her belly and the arrow of dark hair between her legs. His hand grips her thighs, almost bruising, and he makes the type of noise he usually associates with someone getting knifed.

He laughs, low and rough in the back of his throat, feeling loose and relaxed after the release of all that tension. “Turn around." He says, and pulls her off the counter, spinning her around, pressing her forward until her breasts squash against the pale marble. He’s gotten quite an eyeful already, but now he wants a good look at her ass. “I’m a man who keeps his promises, love.”

The kitchen counter is strewn with cooking accoutrements, including an expensive-looking bottle of oil. He keeps a hand on the small of her back, though she makes no move to pull away, and yanks out the stopper on the oil with his teeth. He carefully slicks up several fingers on his right hand, before spreading the oil thickly on the crack of her ass. She arches for him, tipping her hips upwards and spreading her legs a little, and then more than a little.

Zaeed presses two fingers inside her, knowing it’ll be a little too much all at once, but liking it all the same. Miranda's breath is spikey and broken, but it smooths out as he works her open, carefully twisting his fingers as he goes until she softens beneath him. He adds another finger — more than he’d used when he made her squirt for him — rumbling with approval when she presses back into him, nearly fucking herself on his hand.

“Don’t you dare come until I’ve got my cock inside you,” Zaeed says, pulling his fingers out and dripping more oil on the head of his cock. He strokes himself a few times to spread it around and lines himself up. He groans, watching the flushed tip of his cock dissapear slowly into her. She’s pure heat. And so goddamn tight it’s overwhelming. He stills a moment, breathing hard, already fighting the urge to come.

He can come pretty quick the first go around, but the second orgasm usually takes longer. Usually. Now he feels goddamn sensitive, cock twitching like his own end is only a handful of strokes away.

Miranda makes a needy sound and tries to back herself down on him, but he grips tightly at her hips to still her. Fingertips digging hard into all that flawless skin. He pulls her down on his cock slowly, slowly, slowly, feels the way she tightens with every inch or so she takes up her ass.

“Perfect,” Zaeed growls. “Goddamn perfect.”

He slaps his hips against hers, impatient, impaling her fully, and then holds as she shudders, and shakes, and clenches around him. He slaps her ass a few times as she comes, and growls with approval. 

And then, he gets back to work.

Zaeed pulls her close to him as he fucks her, chest to her back, hips rolling with every thrust. He cups her breasts in both hands, squeezing tightly as he sinks into her again, and again, and again. Fuck, if he had his own way he’d never do anything else. Just this until the Reapers came for them both and the world burned away. 

He hangs at the tipping point of orgasm, has to constantly break his rhythm so he doesn’t fall over that edge. Each time he pauses, he drags his hands along her flank, trying to ground himself, touch rough and a little uncoordinated. Miranda whines and wriggles against him, urging him on, back arching and bowing in turns.

Once, he has to pull out entirely, so he won’t come. Then he nearly does anyway as she gapes beneath him, ass fully open for a brief moment from the vigor of his attentions. 

“Yeah.” He growls, thrusting back in and then pulling all the way out again,  just for the simple pleasure of seeing her hole stretched wide for him. “That’s fucking beautiful.” The spiral of heat and tension rises as he resumes that stilted rythem, fucking into her almost as hard as he can.

All at once, he makes a needy sound, a solid rumble in his chest that turns into a roar, a rush of sensation that’s sharper, and brighter, and higher this time around. He slams his hips against hers one final time, and stills, coming so hard his legs shake and he sees fucking stars, and he has to drag the air back into his lungs in huge gulps.

When he comes back to himself, he's all crumpled against her, forehead between her shoulder blades. His hands are on her hips now, fingers clenched so tightly he can see finger shaped marks against her skin, and here and there what might be the hint of a small bruise. He forces himself to let go of her, fingers a creaking ache along his joints. A trickle of sweat slides down the side of his neck.

“That— Goddamn,” he swears low, and reverent.

Zaeed pulls out, bending to run his thumb around her arsehole. She feels swollen there, and well-used, and even though it’s filthy as fuck, he can’t help but press a single finger back up inside her to feel the mercurial shift of his spend in her ass, liking how wet it sounds.

It’s been quite some time since he had a lay this satisfying. And... he gets to do this all again tomorrow.

He never thought he’d have much reason to be thankful for the Reapers, but he’s not above appreciating a goddamn silver lining, especially one that can take a hard dicking like a fucking champ.

Zaeed slaps her ass one more time before pulling his fingers free. He tucks himself away and buttons up his fly before going to the sink and washing his hands beneath the jet of hot water. He’ll still smell like sex on the skycar to the docking bay, but at least he won’t have dried spunk beneath his fingernails.

He rebuckles his armor, piece by piece, watching as Miranda collects herself, combing fingers through her still-damp hair. She doesn’t make a move to cover herself, just moves to a cleaner section of the counter and leans back against it, watching him.

“Well then,” Zaeed says, and wipes his hands on his thighs to dry them.

And Miranda, who hasn’t spoken a goddamn word since Zaeed set foot in her apartment, smiles, all sultry and satisfied. “Worth every credit.”

Christ.

Even now his cock gives a twitch of interest. More than a twitch. He could be fully hard if she just fucking fluttered her eyelashes at him one more time. Day one, and he’s already on the verge of wanting to come three times. And if he does–– by the terms of the contract— he’ll forfeit payment. Bad form, bad precedent, and he’s not a goddamn teenager.

Still, he leans down to kiss her again, tasting only sweetness. “I aim to please.” He says with a wink, before slinging his jacket over his shoulder and sauntering out the door.

Best fucking contract of his life.

[kauriart]

Paragon, Renegade, Pilot

Chapter 8

A NSFW Mass Effect fic | Joker/Kaidan/f!Shepard | Read it on AO3

Joker doesn’t hate Kaidan in the morning.

He wakes up first. Sticky in places, and hollow-bellied with hunger. And Kaidan is pressed up along his side, still half-naked –– and equally sticky –– and no, Joker doesn’t hate him the least little bit.

But he sort of wishes he did. Because it’s probably worse than that. A terrible bruise beneath his ribs where his heart lies, because coping isn’t a basis for anything of real meaning, and Joker is problematically head-over-heels for this man and has no idea what he’ll do if this was a one-time thing. 

Or worse, a one-time thing Kaidan deeply regrets.

Joker's had enough morning afters to know how quickly two people can sour on each other.

Or how quickly someone can sour on him.

He’s a lot, and he knows it. More snipe and sarcasm than anything else, only good for piloting military spaceships — not that he does that anymore — and too physically frail to be anything but a nuisance in a relationship. He didn’t have much to offer before, but now it’s just meds, and physical therapy, and little red flags in his service file, and a stupid Citadel apartment filled with cheap beer, dumb hats, and no furniture. So he stares up at the ceiling, too stressed and unsure to actually enjoy this thing he’s wanted forever.

There’s guilt there too , a hard little nodule of it caught under his lungs. This doesn’t belong to him. It’s Shepard who should be asleep in Kaidan’s arms right now, not Joker.

Ten minutes later Kaidan's eyes flutter open and he wakes with a jaw-cracking yawn, half rolling away from Joker before he stops himself, and rolls back. Joker makes a superhuman attempt to ignore the fact that Kaidan's cock is flush against his hip and that he’s hard.

They both are.

(Oh, mornings. )

“Sleep okay?” Joker asks after a moment.

Kaidan runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I did.” His voice is low and scratchy with sleep and laced with a warmth Joker isn’t used to.

“Good. Um. Everything... else okay?” Joker asks quietly.

Kaidan looks at him for a long long time before answering. “This wasn’t—  I don’t hate you if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t hate you either.”

The corner of Kaidan’s mouth quirks up in a tiny, lopsided smile. “No? That’s good.”

They fall quiet for a while, just looking at each other. Kaidan’s expression is tired but intensely focused. Joker can almost see the wheels in his head turning away. A little frown appears between Kaidan’s brows and he rubs his thumb between them to ease his troubled expression, before realizing that his hand is probably still covered in dried come.

Most of him is covered in dried come, actually.

“Sorry,” Joker says, pulling back with a grimace. “Uh. Sorry. I think I need to shower.”

“Me too,” Kaidan says. That tiny, lopsided smile is back. “Want to shower together?”

Oh fuck.

Well. Morning wood has now become wood.

And it doesn’t help the state of Joker’s boner that Kaidan’s breathing has gone all husky, and the energy of the room has shifted sharply from mellow with sleep to that bright ozone-burn of arousal.

“Um, yeah…” Joker says, heart rate kicking up at an alarming rate. “My shower’s… um. Small. It’s small. And uh… back there.” He points a thumb back over his shoulder.

“Lead the way.”

“Okay.” Joker tries to smile, but it keeps collapsing with nervous energy.

There are a few awkward minutes as they disentangle themselves and get their pants back up enough so they can stand without tripping. And even so, Joker stumbles once or twice on the way to the bathroom, legs stiff the way they are in the mornings. Kaidan tucks a hand under his elbow to steady him. 

Joker rinses his hands in the shower as the water heats, casting glances behind him, half expecting Kaidan just to be gone. But he isn’t. He’s watching Joker — just watching. Eyes dark and a little bloodshot.

When the water warms Joker’s hands hover over the waistband of his own pants, hesitating. He exhales briefly, short and sharp.

Pants. Off. Don’t overthink it.

He shoves his pants down with one quick perfunctory motion and then has to step out of them in stilted, jerky movements. He can make a ten-ton spacecraft dance, but he can’t get out of his own pants with any semblance of grace. 

If Kaidan’s dissatisfied in any way, he doesn’t show it. His gaze sweeps down over Joker’s body, slow, and a little hard to read. Whatever it is, Joker is certain he’s not used to anyone looking at him like that. 

A beat of silence between them, filled by the patter of water against the shower tiles.

There’s none of that desperate, frenetic urgency of the night before. It’s different, somehow. 

Kaidan unbuttons his pants and slides them to the floor, kicking off each leg and stepping easily into the shower and beneath the spray. Water streams across his broad shoulders, pooling in the dip of his collarbone and sliding down a chest densely packed with the kind of muscle you just can’t build from the gym alone. Muscle from a man who can throw biotics with enough power to level a building.

Kaidan’s back arches in reflexive pleasure beneath the heated water, one hand braced against the tile, the other skimming through his hair, pushing wet curls out of his eyes. Joker lets his gaze roam slowly down the expanse of skin, faintly bronze and so heated the steam is curling off of him. The scatter of dark hair across Kaidan’s chest thickens abruptly below his navel, leading lower, where water sluices down the length of his––

God.

Joker’s breath catches in his throat.

Kaidan’s cock is exactly like the rest of him, (Canadian, ha!) bigger and better looking than is strictly necessary.

Like objectively, that’s a fantastic dick.

(The Reapers would probably spare humanity if they got a good look at Kaidan’s dick.)

Kaidan’s smile is a millimeter away from a smirk as he pulls Joker’s hand around him. 

It feels pretty awesome too , hard and silken in his palm. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, Alliance Marines, grade A cock.

Joker’s spank bank runneth over, truly .

He makes a strangled sound, grip tightening in reflex as water pours over his hand.

Kaidan smiles a little, eyes darting up to Joker’s hat. He raises those ludicrously full brows.

Fuck.

Joker tugs at the brim of his hat self-consciously. He knows how stupid it is. They’re both standing there in just their skin and Joker has Kaidain’s dick in his hand, and somehow this is the most embarrassing part of the entire morning.

Double fuck.

But Kaidan has already seen him without it. He pulls his hat off and chucks it towards the door, dick-free hand running across the stiff-short bristles of his hair. He keeps it a quarter inch long. Precisely beard-regulation length.

But where his beard is short and dark, the hair on his head is fucking piebald, spotted with large blotches of white hair on one side that had first started appearing when he turned seventeen. Poliosis was the clinical term for it. Dr Chakwas always said it was from the meds he took to manage his brittle bones, but he’s always felt it was just his crap genetics being crap.

Whatever the reason, Joker’s not a fan.

But Kaidan doesn’t comment on his hair, doesn’t even react. He just slings a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him carefully into the shower.

Joker gasps as the water hits him, hotter than expected. And then hotter still when Kaidan presses close, wet skin against wet skin, and kisses him — once on his jaw, another against the corner of his mouth, and the third, not really a kiss, just scuffing of his lips against Joker’s. Tender in a way that brings a prickle of tears to Joker’s eyes.

A gentle nip against his lower lip and Joker’s breath hitches. Kaidan deepens the kiss, tilting Joker’s chin up , kissing him carefully but thoroughly. Joker reaches for Kaidan’s shoulders, drawing him closer fingers splaying over warm skin, feeling muscle shift under his hands. Their cocks bump together. The angle shifts and Joker gets a mouthful of water. He swallows it away not wanting to break the kiss.

He’s gonna drown in the shower and he’s going to be delighted about it.

Kaidan pulls back a little, gasping. He reaches for the soap bottle and squirts a bit into his hand before running it up the center of Joker’s chest, trailing bubbles. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Fuuuuuck.

For all his fantasizing, Joker never really imagined what he might say in response to a question like that from Kaidan. It’s a disservice really , to Kaidan’s character, that his mind mostly skipped right over the logistics, and went straight to the steamy bits. But he knows what he wants.

“Everything. Fuck, everything.”

Kaidan grins and drips a generous amount of soap on the head of Joker's cock, slicking him up from tip to base in one quick twist of his palm. The sudden jolt of pleasure nearly short-circuits Joker’s entire nervous system. And Joker is going to die because big hands, and that’s a kink he can admit to. And it’s amazing. All of it. The rhythm Kaidan sets is insistent and so smooth and slippery from the soap, it’s just endless. Just a loop of sensation from the base of Joker’s cock to his tip and back down again.

Fucking amazing. 

Maybe a little too amazing.

“Kaidan.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs with that goddamned bedroom voice of his and keeps stroking.

Joker feels his balls tighten alarmingly. “ Wait wait Kaidan , I should tell you, nngh––”

“Yeah?” His voice is even huskier this time.

“I’m –– some of the meds… my meds.” Joker takes a breath and tries to retain enough brain function to keep speaking. “ God your hands. Um. Meds. Make me… I come—”

“Isn’t that the point,” Kaidan interrupts.

“ God, I hope so,” Joker makes a startled, strained sound. Half moan, half chuckle. His hips thrust up a little. “It’s just fast. Sometimes. Most times. Probably now.” Definitely now, he amends silently as little lightning bolts of pleasure start pinging through him, bright and sharp. “I come really fast. Just … you should know… just in case.”

Kaidan makes a pleased sound and presses an open-mouthed kiss against his neck that definitely doesn’t help matters. And he doesn't stop stroking him with those big fucking hands.

“Really really really fast,“ Joker amends, voice strained. He presses both hands against the tile of the shower stall, gasping, wishing he could last longer than thirty fucking seconds.

He thrusts up into Kaidan’s hand as his grip tightens, and Joker makes a slightly alarmed sound. There’s fast, and then there’s die-of-embarrassment-faster-than-light-fast. His hand drifts down to the base of his cock, digging in, trying to deny the inevitable , but Kaidan coaxes his hand away, insistent.

The feel of a soapy hand creeping over Joker’s hip and between his buttocks. Fingers swirl around his hole, before a single, thick digit slides inside. Joker’s breath shudders out of him. It’s a single finger, not too deep, more of a question than an intrusion. But the gentle stretch, the fullness of it makes every other sensation sharpen ruthlessly.

His nails bite into Kaidan’s skin. “Gonna... Kaidan… Gonna...Oh God— ”

Kaidan just doubles down, trying to milk it out of him. His finger presses deeper, thrusting in and out in tiny movements. “Trust me, Joker. I want you to come.”

Okay then.

Liquid heat spirals up through his core in a bolt of pleasure so bright his legs nearly buckle. He can feel Kaidan slide his finger deeper, feel himself clench down, helplessly. His breath falters, locking up in his chest. A blur of white stripes Kaidan’s thighs a moment before it’s washed away. Joker moans brokenly, tucking his face against Kaidan’s shoulder as he comes, toes curling into the slippery tiles.

Kaidan’s finger in his hole pumps a few times.

“You like that?” Kaidan husks.

He moans. It’s all fullness and heat and spikey over-sensitivity. “I love—” He shakes his head a little. Has to catch the I love you in his mouth, sink his teeth into it, and bite down hard, so it doesn’t slip free. “That. Yeah. I love that.”

“Perfect ,” Kaidan keeps stroking — long, slow pulls the full length of Joker’s cock that makes his stomach clench in jerks and spasms with each drag of his hand. His finger slides deep.

Never figured Kaidan would be quite so pushy in bed. But no complaints, fuck no.

“Turn around,” Kaidan says, voice tight with desire. 

Kaidan’s hands are gentle when they touch him, turn him, one sliding along Joker’s arm , the other at his hip. Joker braces both hands on the slick tiles of the shower stall.

The feel of Kaidan’s hard cock slotted against his buttocks is electrifying. It’s too close to things he’s fantasized about many, many times. And he feels breathless and achy in ways he can’t put into words as Kaidan runs his hands up and down Joker’s back. The steam wraps around them as Kaidan presses Joker forward, letting the wall support them both. 

But…

“Not… not today. Not here.” Kaidan murmurs, lips against the back of Joker’s neck. “I just want…”

And Joker doesn’t have the space to feel relieved, or disappointed. He just … feels. The thrust of Kaidan’s hips, seeking skin and sensation. All soaped up and slippery down the length of that gorgeous cock. A hand skims across Joker’s belly and across his chest.

It doesn’t take long, Kaidan rutting against him. The heavy breath in his ear starts to fray, and then falter. He feels Kaidan grunt, buck hard against him, and then go still. Feels a sudden pool of heat at the small of his back as Kaidan comes with a shattered groan. Feels the deadweight of Kaidan’s head against his shoulder, tipped forward like he’s just been headshot.

  Feels a stir of interest between his own legs.

Joker chuckles breathlessly.

Then he reaches his weekly allotment, and the water shifts abruptly to cold.

Kaidan gasps, swearing, and tries — not very successfully — to block the icy spray with his bulk.  

Joker laughs then , breathless and real , and pulls Kaidan closer as the cold water runs down between them, falling against heated skin. A balm after so much heat.

***

Kaidan makes them breakfast from an assortment of random things in Joker’s pantry, muttering darkly to himself about the lack of cutting boards and black pepper, and presses, but like French ones. He’s wearing an old green shirt of Joker’s and looks way, way better in it than Joker ever did. It’s criminal really , how effortlessly hot Kaidan can be. The shirt is a little small and a little thin, and the muscles of his shoulders and chest stand out.

Joker sits on a stool –– properly hatted –– watching Kaidan work, sipping hot coffee from a beer glass, and feeling something like that bubbly sensation of free fall you get sometimes from the g-forces of flight. He’s happy he realizes with a pang. What the fuck.

Kaidan slides a plate in front of him, and he gulps down a mouthful of coffee, burning his tongue.

They eat in an easy, companionable silence. Kaidan’s attention is fully devoted to working through the mountain of food on his plate and doesn’t notice the notification on his omnitool until it’s been pinging for a couple of minutes. 

He flicks through to the message. “Damn, I have to go,” Kaidan crams an entire piece of buttered toast into his mouth at an alarming speed. “They’re running drills today.”

Joker’s smile is probably closer to a grimace, but Kaidan doesn’t notice.

Drills are for active duty servicemen, not losers on forced medical leave. Joker hasn’t been allowed to be near a flight-sim or a gun range since he got back to the Citadel.

“I’m already late,” Kaidan says by way of apology , scrambling around to clean up the kitchen and find his boots where they’d been kicked to opposite ends of the living room.

He slings his jacket over one arm and rushes to the door, freezes at the threshold, and turns abruptly around . Kaidan hurries back to Joker and kisses him.

Joker exhales a surprised breath.

“Hey. I’ll be by later, okay,” Kaidan says.

“Yeah,” Joker’s smile is genuine this time, if a little rueful. “I’ll miss you.” He meant it teasingly but Kaidan leans in for a second kiss. This one lingers.

“It’s a date,” he says firmly and hurries out the door.

“Yeah… a date,” Joker says quietly to the empty apartment.

[kauriart]

Fic Asks

💕🤲🏻

💞 Who's your comfort character? Here. 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? From Paragon, Renegade, Pilot:

There are rumors that Shepard is alive.

It’s not the first time he’s heard that Shepard survived. For a while, every redhead with a gun was trying to pawn themselves off as the Commander once word got around that the Alliance never found her body.

The first time he heard that Shepard had lived, he spent nearly a year's worth of credits to book passage to some backwater system, only to find some half-assed phony impersonator and definitive proof that he's still head over heels in love with Shepard.

He’s a connoisseur of Shepard rumors now. There’s the one where she’s been recruited into Turian high command; the one where she’s working as a stripper in the terminus systems; the one where she’s in a Krogan prison; the one where she’s pregnant with the Asari councilor's love-child; the one where she’s being held hostage by Batarian slavers; the one where she was being held hostage by Batarian slavers, then broke out, killed half of them, and took over command.

There are even worse whisperings. Nightmare stuff. Stuff about what oxygen deprivation does to the brain, or what rapid decompression does to the body. Once Joker had to listen to a detailed explanation of what it might be like to suffer an arterial bleed while free-floating in space, and how the force of your own blood leaving your body would actually propel you backward. Joker’s not usually so morbid, but it turns out there are a helluva lotta ways to experience truly awful things in space.

There are your conspiracy theorists, with their endless, infinitely detailed explanations, and unshakable certainty that Shepard was in league with Saren, or indoctrinated by him. They can go on for hours about how Shepard had orchestrated the whole attack on the Citadel for the chance to take out the entirety of the Council and place a human in the highest seat of galactic power. That one just hurts like a gut punch. Joker would be lying if he said that none of his nightmares of endless screams and weightless bodies were of the Destiny Ascension.

Every now and then you get your assholes. Mostly young, plastered marines in dive bars with the world’s most punchable faces, explaining how it’s a good thing that Commander Shepard is dead. They’re usually surrounded by squad mates trying desperately to get them to shut-the-fuck-up. On more than one occasion Joker’s gotten into shouting matches because he doesn’t seem to have any self-control anymore, but at least guys like that help him find the teeniest-tiniest silver lining to it all and the bitter thought that the Reapers couldn’t come fast enough.

So he doesn’t pay any attention to the latest crop of rumors. 

But then, someone sends him a set of coordinates and a lock of red hair.

And in one instant. Joker feels the tiny shelter he’d rebuilt around his heart, crumble away. 

He tries Ryncol for the first time that night and ends up puking into the Presidium Lake. He spends the rest of the night on the floor of his apartment with his head in his hands and just aches for them. For Shepard. For Kaidan.

He stays in his apartment for four days. Four awful days where he’s frozen between hope and grief and a cluster fuck of what-ifs.

(And bouts of every one of his internal organs turning inside-out from the Ryncol.)

(Super not recommend.)

[kauriart]

💞 Who’s your comfort character?

and

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them: Zevran 😏

💞 Who’s your comfort character?

Cullen Rutherford. Hands down. He's just such a functional mess of a man, and his characterization can swing so many ways, and despite being in 3 of the 4 games, he was actually explored at a pretty shallow level (because his redemption arc was all off screen). So yeah. Love him. Love writing about him, love reading him. Love love love.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them: Zevran Other than this which is really close to how I view his characterization, I think a lot about the spicy side of crow training. Like sure, they train them on poisons and weapons and how to look fabulous in a cape. But it's suggested that they are trained in sex as an avenue to murder or information gathering, and it's also suggested that Zevran is a master of such. So I kinda like to think that a young Zevran was Viago's first sexual trainer and taught him how to give a killer blowjob. And then Viago was Theia's and taught her the same. The circle of blowjobs life.

[kauriart]

📈 ☀️ 🧐

📈 How many fics do you have?

Thirty-five! Most of them one-shots, and most of them smutty. There's only 5 longer series in there (5+ chapters, or multi-part like the Mini-NSFW Headcanons), and my total word count on AO3 is only 260,651 which seems way less than I expected but I am bad at math so what do I know.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I try to write at night, but I usually fall promptly asleep at my laptop. I actually do my best work on airplanes, which is one of the reasons my posting dropped off for a while after Covid.

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

No. YOLO. We die like men.

I have had to research a little bit more for Paragon, Renegade, Pilot because it's my first Mass Effect fic and there's so much tech terminology even in casual use, and I haven't actually read much Mass Effect fanfic so I don't have a good sense of how fandom handles this stuff. I have a tendency to write the places between the story. Sometimes you have to write the parts the games cover (like the Citadel battle) but you guys have already experienced the game play parts, so unless I can bring something else to it, or it's just critical to the plot of the fic, I try to skip over as much as possible.

[kauriart]

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

100% no plan. We die like men. I don't even write stuff in order. I write what interests me and then just try to connect it into something coherent. So my writing process is heavily based on: oh shit I hope this works out. I have a vague idea of where the story is heading. Like for An Open Contract my Zaeed/Miranda prostitution fic (she pays him, yo). I have no idea where it's going. None. Like they bone a lot. And he's snarky and picks at her self-identity issues in the best/worst ways. And I think Vido lives. And they both catch feels. And that's it. No clue how I'm gonna get to any of that.

I've historically written really tight outlines... but I find that's the stuff I'm likely to drop because I eventually don't like the outline, but don't want to ditch it, or the act of outlining sort of "gets the story out of me" and I just move on. So now I just yeet myself off the writing cliff and hope I stick the landing.

[kauriart]

😅🎨😈

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists? 🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories? Literally the best. @igalaxyknight drew my Trevelyan from Letters from Orlais forever ago, and I think I screamed for a solid week. I also got the reverse once, where my art inspired a fic, but Tumblr ate that one during the porn purge because it was a drawing of Solas in a ball gag with a full on boner, and none of us can have good things anymore. My fave thing to draw is fanart of other people fic because if you want to make people happy-cry, that is how you do it. 😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Oh. TOTALLY. My favorite time I did this was probably from Letters from Orlais chapter 3. Cullen gets sent a letter from an Orlesian noble at the very end of the chapter with a note that says: Use this and think of me. And he doesn't open the box. The amount of screaming in the comments was SUCH a delight.

[kauriart]

🛒 and ❌

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Dicks! For real though. I think I'm really drawn to character studies through the lens of sex, which is why I struggle with porn without plot. For a smut writer, if it's "just sex" it's not really interesting to me. It's really the dynamic of the characters that makes it interesting for me. I also inject a lot of humor into my fics because when I write dumb shit like: "To love Carver Hawke is to love a porcupine" I immediately loose all self-control, and I MUST POST IT. (I think sometimes to the detriment of the character voice, especially in my early work.)

❌ What's a trope you will never write? I'm not a huge fan of relationship conflicts that boil down to two people not having a fucking conversation. A little of that is fine, but if THAT'S the catalyst of the big dramatic pain point... I think I find that too annoying to write. On the flip side, I love poor communication if it's part of the characterization. Like Cullen is a dumbass and can easily convince himself that he shouldn't do things (like communicate), and that's fine by me.

[kauriart]

📚

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

Not a career, but I would love to formally publish something one day. My husband has been pushing me for years to write something with the goal of publication, but the truth is I really enjoy writing for fandom (and getting to skip world building and a ton of exposition).

Plus the smut in “real” books is… so very tame.

[kauriart]

Feeling chatty! Ask away!!

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

📈 How many fics do you have?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

[kauriart]

*vibrates an unhealthy amount* Chest hair mod!!!!!!!!!!!

KAIDAN ALENKO in Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition

[kauriart]

Writing Masterpost

Dragon Age, Mass Effect, and FO4  | *indicates NSFW chapters  | Read ‘em all on AO3 

Letters from Orlais 15 of ? & The Prequel (5/5)

Cullen x f!Trevelyan: The beginning of their sexual relationship.

*Prequel: Part 1  |  *Part 2  |  *Part 3  |  *Part 4  |  *Part 5

Cullen x f!Trevelyan - Cullen gets smutty Orlesian letters and learns how to kink

* Prologue  |  *1: I would touch you, Ser  |  *2: I shall take you over my knee  |  *3: Use this, and think of me  |  *4: Taste every freckle on your body  |  * 5: I want only to watch  |  *6: I belong entirely to your lips  | *7: Your Tenderest Parts. | *8: Twice as Delightful  |  *9: Beg for my Tongue  |  *10: Yours for the Taking  |  *11: Indulge Me  |  *12: At Her Mercy  |  *13: Plant Your Seed  |  *14: I Will Obey  |  *15: Enchanting  |  To be continued…

The Journals of CSR 5 of ?

Cullen x f!Lavellan - A canonically divergent multi-POV retelling of Inquisition

Chapter 1: The Commander  |  2: The Commander  |  3: The Prisoner  |  4: The Commander  | 5: The Storyteller  |  To be continued…

Sunshine in the Dark 5 of 5

Bethany x Warden!Alistair - A tale of falling in love in the Deep Roads and how the joining complicates EVERYTHING. 

Chapter 1: Touch  |  2: Taste  |  *Chapter 3: Sense  |  *Chapter 4: Savor  |  *Chapter 5: Slake

How Alistair Fell in Love with Bethany Hawke An Alistair POV one-shot of their first meeting

Paragon, Renegade, Pilot 8 of ?

Joker x Kaidan x f!Shepard - How a duo becomes a trio during times of war, told through Joker’s eyes.

Chapter 1: Xenobiology, baby  |  2: Peak Sock Innovation  |  3: Shoot Me  |  4: Super Fun Tuesday  |  5: Monumental Prick  |  6: Fuck  |  *7: Better Beer  |  8: Fuck Everything

One Shots / Short Fics

The Knight-Lieutenant Meredith recruits Cullen to the Kirkwall Circle

*The Captain: Day 1  | *Day 2 | *Day 3  Cullen x Isabela (complete); Before joining the Inquisition, Cullen unexpectedly reconnects with an acquaintance. 

*She is Calm Bull x f!OC: Bull visits a Tamassaran in a state of emotional crisis

The Recruit Cullen x f!Trevelyan: Trevelyan makes room for Cullen’s Mabari

Cassandra - Body Part 

*Fenris - X-Ray  Fenris x m!Hawke (please see AO3 Content warnings)

*Alistair - Aftercare  Alistair x f!Warden: sex in the deep roads is complicated

*Anders - Dirty Secret Anders x m!Hawke + Anders x Fenris

*One, Two, Three Alistair x f!Cousland x Leliana: first taste of love

*Cullen: Intimacy Cullen x f!Trevelyan (plus sized)

Good Boy, Goodbye Alistair x f!Cousland say goodbye to Barkspawn 

*An Agent of Fen-Harel Tresspasser AU of Cullen x f!Trevelyan x Solas

Cullen: Through the Ages A characters study of Cullen ages12-32

Happy Endings m!Hawke x Orsino in the aftermath of Kirkwall

*Checkmate Cullen x Dorian: How Dorian catches himself a Commander

*Hero m!Cousland x Loghain: lovers to enemies to lovers

*Between Love and Duty Alistair x f!Warden & Alistair x Anora: The King of Fereldan makes peace with his new life, and the new woman in his bed.

*A Handful of Caps Danse x MacCready: Paladin Danse trades sex for caps

*NSFW Mini-Headcanons

Short character studies through smut. POV character is gender and genital neutral so readers may imagine who they want. Do check the tags as each one-shot may feature different flavors of kinks.

Abelas   |  Alistair |   Anders   |   Arishok   |   Blackwall  |  Carver  |  Cassandra |  Cole |  Fenris  |   Krem   |   Merrill   |   Nathaniel Howe   |  Rylen   |   Samson   |   Sebastian   |   Solas |   Spirit Justice    |  Varric  |  Vivienne  |  Zevran

[kauriart]

Kaidan, Shepard, Joker From my fic Paragon, Renegade, Pilot

Shepard walks over to the small array of liquor stored in a sleek cabinet. There’s about a half dozen bottles of various shapes and colors and she runs her fingers across them all before picking something and pouring herself a shot. She downs it without preamble. Then she pours another. “Ever played truth or dare?”

“Oh no,” Joker says, “bad idea. Very bad.”

She shoots him a flat look from beneath dark lashes. “We have things to talk about.”

“Fine,” Joker huffs and snags the bottle and pours his own shot, already deeply regretting everything. “But he’s going first.” He points to Kaidan with his drink. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Kaiden says.

“You have a dumb face,” Joker tells him.

Kaidan blinks. “That’s –– I don’t think that’s how the game works.”

“I know how it works. I’m just letting you know.”

[kauriart]

Kaidan, Shepard, Joker From my fic Paragon, Renegade, Pilot

Shepard walks over to the small array of liquor stored in a sleek cabinet. There’s about a half dozen bottles of various shapes and colors and she runs her fingers across them all before picking something and pouring herself a shot. She downs it without preamble. Then she pours another. “Ever played truth or dare?”

“Oh no,” Joker says, “bad idea. Very bad.”

She shoots him a flat look from beneath dark lashes. “We have things to talk about.”

“Fine,” Joker huffs and snags the bottle and pours his own shot, already deeply regretting everything. “But he’s going first.” He points to Kaidan with his drink. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Kaiden says.

“You have a dumb face,” Joker tells him.

Kaidan blinks. “That’s –– I don’t think that’s how the game works.”

“I know how it works. I’m just letting you know.”

[kauriart]

Hey you!

First of all let me just say I love your return to writing. I've read pretty much all of your Dragon Age fics from way back when and I've always loved the way you write people in a way that suits them so well I tend to read them in their voices. The same now goes for Mass Effect... Especially Joker. Yes so brilliantly written, funny and witty and it's absolutely just so HIM.

Can't wait to continue to devour every chapter as soon as it releases. Please keep up the amazing work and thank you for blessing us with your writing treats.

Also, can I just ask what your reason is in the fic for Joker being so self conscious about the hats? It's been a long minute since I played the games and I assume it has to do with his disability but I can't remember it ever being mentioned. What do you see as the reason? Scars? Deformation? Just bad hair?

Thank you!!!! This is the nicest message ever. <3 I think I've been worried that my Dragon Age followers would be disappointed that I've returned on a Mass Effect kick. Re: Joker's hair. I don't think there was ever an in-game reason for Joker and his hat. But here's a little explanation from an upcoming chapter of the fic in question:

Shepard’s hair is like molten copper. She keeps it wound tight in a military-style bun, but it spills down to the small of her back when loose, like a river of fire. Kaidan’s hair is coal-black and absurdly thick, with just enough wave that only pomade and daily struggles keep it looking tidy. Joker’s hair is plain old dirt brown –– on the left side. (And dirt has never occupied the same sentence as sexy in the entire course of human history.) The right side, though, is piebald. Because if going grey in your late teens isn’t bad enough, he had to do it in undignified splotches, like someone had dipped their hand in white paint and slapped him upside the head.

I think Joker keeps his hair pretty short so the pattern really stands out. Looks a bit like this in my head:

It's called poliosis, similar to vitiligo, but affects hair follicles. I head cannon it as a side-effect from some of the medication he was on when he was younger. Weirdly I think Joker has decided to be self-conscious about his hair because it actually doesn't matter -- it's just surface level stuff, even to him. But it gives him an outlet for all the other medical stuff he deals with that can and does impact him. Like, he's made it a safe space for himself and all his feeling about Vrolik's Syndrome, that he directs to his hair. Shepard and Kaidan both think it's a pretty striking looking.