Work Text:
Behind closed doors he paces. Too buzzed to sleep. Too tired for anything else. Too caught up in the idea of what could be if he would just carry his feelings over to Shep’s room down the hall and offer to make a trade. He finds a seat at his desk and puts his head in his hands.
All he sees is her. Fingers curling around her wine glass and lifting it to her lips. Parting just so.
Leaning back, tension releases. He thinks of her in her dress. Slit up the side. Cut low down the back. The beautiful, exposed skin. He wonders what that skin feels like under his fingertips. What it might be like to have her dress strewn about his room. On any other given day he might reconsider. Maintain some inner thought decorum. But here, in the warm light of the desk lamp, he pictures her and her pretty lips.
Unzipping his pants, he frees his cock. Imagines her lowering herself before him, dark eyes staring up at him through those lashes. She’d smile about it, kneeling before him, running her tongue across her teeth.
His cock twitches in the cool air as the fantasy plays out.
He closes his eyes to see her clearer. Shepard’s lips press kisses along his inner thighs, teasing and cruel until she finally wraps her warm and perfect mouth around him.
Sam strokes himself and a groan escapes.
Shepard can’t sleep. Even though it’s late and the Lodge snores. She wants and maybe even needs to tell him. Going the subtle route had failed completely at the gala and she’s not sure she can wait it out another day—not even another fucking minute. Tossing her heels on the bed, she slips out her door, checking to make sure the hallway is clear. She pads a few doors down to Sam’s room where just a hint of light spills out from the bottom.
She stops just an inch away, a low groan catching her attention. Never knew he worked out so late.
There’s another groan and warmth pools in her belly. Thoughts—very dubious thoughts, flood her brain.
She should turn right back around. Crawl in her bed. Close her eyes and pretend she was never standing here, fist frozen mid knock.
But instead, she presses her ear to the door.
It’s so low, she can barely hear him but she swears he just said her name.
Oh. Oh.
She certainly can’t knock now. And it’s questionable to keep eavesdropping.
She does it anyway. Listens as his voice just barely rises and washes away into a whimper. It takes everything in her not to touch herself right there in the open hallway where any member of Constellation could come strolling down the hall for a middle of the night bathroom break.
She closes her eyes and imagines what he might be doing on the other side. Imagines what he’s thinking of doing to or with her. What things she would do to him. Her breath catches in her throat. She flexes her fingers, pressing them against the door.
The door opens. Eyes going wide, she braces for impact. But she only falls into Sam’s gentle arms.
“Shepard?”