#oc shepard

They were in that awful in-between state: traveling somewhere and with nothing to do while they went from a to b. Shepard sat on the couch in the Captain's Quarters, feet crossed on the table, and counted the lines in the ceiling for the fiftieth time.

She was bored.

Vitorius wasn't.

Her eyes landed on him again on the other side of the couch. Legs crossed, datapad on his thigh, taloned finger swiping, mandibles flexing slowly--it was clear he was reading something interesting.

Something more interesting than her. At least right now.

She had to do something about that.

She stood and sauntered behind him. Her fingers slid across his neck, the touch so light a small pull punch through him as he shivered on his exhale. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and bent down.

"Hey," she purred. "Whatcha doing?"

"Reading a tactical report," he said.

She glanced down at the screen and blinked. "...It's fifty-two years old."

"Yes."

So he was reading his war nerd stuff again. She didn't mind--she never did; it really was interesting--but when she was bored and he could help her not be that anymore, it wasn't as interesting as he wanted to pretend it was.

"Aw, work, work..." Shepard crooned. "Is that all you ever do?"

Vitorius' mandible flicked against her cheek. "You know it's not."

"Just not right now?"

"Exactly. Not right now."

Wanted to play, did he?

Game on.

Her lips pressed against his mandible in a smooch. While he didn't react outwardly, his subharmonics hummed in a note that sounded happy and affectionate.

He also blinked a few times, his eyes trailing just enough up to tell her he had to reread something.

It was too easy.

Shepard slid her hand across his throat, fingers tracing where skin met plate. The vibrations from his chest reverberated through her fingers. Another kiss to his mandible, then a kiss on his neck. A slow exhale left Vitorius' nose.

He hadn't scrolled since she started her little campaign.

Excellent.

"Anything interesting?" she murmured against his neck.

"Hm?"

"In the report."

"...Yes."

"What?"

"...Military things."

She smiled. "Military things?"

"Tactical military things."

"Right."

A long, wet, and torturously slow swipe of her tongue came next, starting from the base of his neck and ending right below his plated jawline. His subharmonics changed in an instant, dipping into a lower, growlier texture. She did it once more, ending the lick with her teeth raking over his hide, and he tossed the datapad on the table.

"Mika."

"Vito?"

Vitorius finally turned his head toward Shepard, a mandible flicking in amusement. "Spirits help me. You're impossible."

She inclined her head. "You love it."

He didn't give a worded reply.