Characters: John Shepard, Karin Chakwas
Location: S.S.V. Normandy
"How is he, Doctor?"
"Physically, he's in perfect condition — aside from a few scrapes and bruises, which are perfectly understandable considering what he and Kaidan went through down on the planet's surface. However... "
"Yes?"
"I can't draw conclusions without supporting medical data, Captain Anderson. Give me a few more minutes. For now, the only thing I can say is that Shepard has shown slightly elevated activity in the region of the brain associated with dreaming."
"Is that serious?"
"I don't know yet. I'll wait for the test results and inform you immediately."
"Thank you, Karin. Anderson out."
The image of the dark-skinned Alliance officer vanished from the monitor, and Doctor Chakwas turned her gaze to the unconscious body of Captain Shepard lying on the medical table. He was down to his underwear — when Shepard had been brought back from Eden Prime unconscious, the first thing Karin had done was ensure he'd suffered no physical injury, which meant stripping off the combat suit.
The full-body diagnostic had taken almost an hour but revealed no external trauma. On one hand, that was good news. On the other, it suggested the real issue was neurological — his unconscious state likely the result of powerful cerebral impact. All she could hope was that the beacon hadn't decided to completely burn out the Alliance soldier's mind before it was destroyed. To confirm that, she had initiated a full brainwave scan. The results should be arriving any minute now.
In the meantime, she set aside the tablet containing Shepard's physical data — she practically knew it by heart anyway — and rose from her chair, giving herself a moment to stretch. The last five hours had been spent right there, drafting medical reports and cross-checking test logs, and now, as she stood and arched her back with feline grace, a wave of physical pleasure washed over her.
Catching her reflection in the mirror mounted above the tiny sink in the corner of the medbay, Dr. Chakwas took a quick appraisal of herself. A mature woman stared back — short dark hair streaked with silver, age beginning to settle into her features — but her body remained enviable. Long legs — her pride — a defined waist, a toned stomach. Perhaps not the most beautiful woman in the Alliance, but her charisma and quiet, ageless femininity combined with decent looks to attract the attention of many men she worked alongside. And not just her peers, either.
Not a day passed without a lingering glance from at least one of the younger officers. She never openly admitted it, but the attention pleased her. So long as it remained just that — attention. There was no time in her life for romance or indulgence. If there had been, she likely never would have landed the position of Normandy's chief medical officer — an assignment demanding total dedication.
And yet... It had been over five years since she'd felt a man's touch. Lately, ignoring that growing need had become more and more difficult. Where once she could drown it in work, now she found herself reaching for the vibrator she'd discreetly ordered from a specialty shop based on Thessia. Perhaps it was something about the asari, but gods, they knew their pleasure tech. The device, with its romantic name "Embrace of Eternity," usually did the job, easing the ache that flared low in her belly.
Until recently.
Yesterday, she'd climaxed three times in a row with it — and yet, as her body trembled in orgasmic spasms, something became painfully clear.
She needed a real cock.
Thinking about that, Chakwas let her eyes wander across Shepard's powerful body: his broad chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths, his sculpted abs, those strong arms... The executive officer under Captain Anderson was almost the ideal male form. Or perhaps she only thought that because it had been so long since she'd gazed on a naked man.
Either way — she couldn't not touch him.
Her hand, so small in comparison to his muscular frame, slid slowly from his neck down to the ridges of his abdomen. Reaching the waistband of his underwear, she hesitated.
"What are you doing, Karin?" she asked herself.
But her fingers were already tugging down the final piece of fabric. And when she saw what lay beneath, the chief medical officer of the Normandy couldn't help but exclaim —
"Oh my."
Shepard's cock was still soft — but even in its resting state, it wasn't small. Easily six inches. And if this was soft...
It was a beast. A club. There was no other word.
She even smiled at the thought, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth — just for a moment, she was back in her university years, a younger Karin in medical school in Mumbai, trading scandalous stories with friends about whose boyfriend had the biggest dick.
Now, that very cock — when had her hand closed around it? — was in her grip. Not just big. Enormous. No, "this" wasn't a "penis". This was a cock, and it was responding to her touch.
At first, it twitched — subtle, exploratory. Then, as she gave it a few slow strokes, it began to grow. Thicken. Rise.
Rapidly.
In seconds, she found herself staring up at an erect pillar of flesh — veiny, rigid, crowned with a large, flushed head.
Ten inches? Maybe more? Eleven? She wasn't sure. Didn't matter. What mattered was that this huge cock was in her hands.
Her throat went dry. The sheer power she felt, holding this pulsing weapon, was addictive. Slowly, instinctively, she wrapped both hands around it, stroking along the shaft, savoring how it twitched at her touch.
A drop of clear fluid welled at the tip.
Her fingers scooped it up, holding it to the light, eyes wide with fascination. She'd almost forgotten what this was like. One small moment — her finger dipped into her mouth. The taste of the captain lit her nerves on fire.
Between her legs, she was wet. Dripping. Knees unsteady.
She couldn't wait.
Rules, regulations — all of it could go to hell.
Karin lowered herself, her face level with his cock. Her tongue darted out, gently tracing the length, lapping up the fresh bead of precum. Then, giving in to her need, she pressed her lips to the head and took it into her mouth.
A forgotten pleasure. Intoxicating.
Her hands cupped Shepard's balls, massaging them as her tongue bathed the tip like the sweetest candy in the galaxy. Gradually she took more of him in, inch by inch — but even when the thick head pressed against her throat, she realized she hadn't managed to swallow half of it.
She pulled back for breath.
Then plunged again.
Again.
And again.
The medbay filled with wet, guttural sounds — Ggllck! Mrrghff! Glhhkkk! Huhhhmm! — intermingled with moans of pleasure from her own throat.
Spit flowed freely, cascading down the cock, over his balls, which she fondled with greedy fingers. It dripped from her chin, soaking into her uniform. She scooped it up and sucked it back into her mouth. Her breathing was ragged. She was completely under this cock's spell.
How foolish to think it was "hers" to command. It had taken her. Claimed her. And her drenched pussy was all the proof needed. The crotch of her uniform must have been soaked.
Still, she couldn't take it all.
Nearly ten inches down her throat — but more simply wouldn't fit. Spit mixed with tears, her hair disheveled, lipstick long gone. Still, she drove her throat down on it, again and again, like she was fucking herself on it.
Time slipped away. Nothing mattered except the divine brutality of it.
As she swallowed him yet again, the mounting pressure in her own core surged to the breaking point. Her hand pressed between her thighs, rubbing herself through the soaked fabric — and she came.
Still deepthroating his cock.
It tore at her throat, made her gag, made her eyes roll back — but the orgasm hit so hard she didn't care. Breathless. Mind blank. Maybe even lost consciousness for a few moments.
Her pussy clenched and squirted inside her suit. And then — Shepard's cock began to throb.
She didn't have time to pull away.
The first jet of cum shot from his cock like a cannon blast, slamming the back of her throat. Her eyes widened. Then another — and another — splrt! hrrggghh! splrrrrsh! — thick, hot seed poured into her, flooding her mouth.
It filled her cheeks. Overflowed.
More sprayed across her face, her lips, her lashes. Her hair. She could barely open her eyes through the mess.
Using her hands, she scooped cum from her forehead, her brows, her eyelids. What was in her mouth, she obediently swallowed. She was drenched — from her own juices, and his.
His cock slowly softened, hanging heavy, spent. As Chakwas made her way to the sink, his cock slowly wilted, returning to its original flaccid form.
Washing up, she raised her eyes to the mirror. There was no chief medical officer of an Alliance frigate staring back. Just a cum-hungry-slut, wild-eyed and ruined, ready to do anything for another taste.
She turned to Shepard's still-unconscious body, and a slow, sultry smile curled her lips. For now... that would be enough.
But this wasn't the end. Not by a long shot.