Mass Effect 1. The Meeting

**Author's Note - **This story was written for the following prompt from the Mass Effect Kink Meme community at Live Journal:

"_Femshep gives Conrad pity sex cuz he says he misses his wife. Shep is ready to let him flop around and finish herself off later, but what's this? Conrad's a stud that's what, and rocks her world 12 ways from Sunday. Hop to it anon."_

This fic was also inspired by two hilarious songs from The Lonely Island group: "Like a Boss" and "I Just Had Sex." Why? Beause they describe Conrad perfectly LOL. So, my apologies if I make references to them a lot in this fic...I kinda wrote this late at night with those songs on repeat...

**Warnings:** Since this was written specifically for the kink meme, expect some explicit scenes. This fic was also written for another prompt that requested squirting, so expect to read about it.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all characters belong to Bioware. I do not make money from writing this fan fiction.

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It had been a week since Shepard and her squad took on the Collectors. While that damn suicide of a mission was a successful one, and while the Commander was relieved that she and her entire crew made it out alive, the after effects of the mission were still taking a toll on her well-being. She wanted to get away from Cerberus, wanted to get away from everything—she really needed a week or two's vacation of doing anything but saving the galaxy over and over again.

She thought about touching down on the Citadel, as per Jacob's suggestion of 'getting loud and spilling drinks' there, but the political stuffiness and all the red-tape bureaucracy of the place turned her off. She got sick and tired of running into every little problem that happened to present itself there. Why the hell should she care about solving other peoples' problems when she had her own to worry about? And then there was also running into undesirables, such as that annoying Kalisah reporter (whom she wouldn't hesitate to punch again) or that hard-ass Udina.

Instead, Shepard chose to do her shore leave on Omega: it was dirty, gritty, its streets and clubs full of smoke and littered with scums—just the way that a renegade like her would like it. There was something about Omega that reminded her of home—that reminded her of younger days as a slum dog, when she joined a gang and learned to survive on the streets by wits and guts before enlisting into the Alliance. Omega was almost like a second home to her.

She made her entrance all decked out in the little black dress and heels that Kasumi gave her. If she was going to go on shore leave for a while, she thought it best do it in style. She ignored the whistles and cat calls from strangers as she made her way through the alleyways and towards the VIP area of the Afterlife club. If any one of those scumbags ever dared to touch her, she was ready to holster her pistol hidden under her dress and fire a bullet to their heads.

"What do you want?" the turian bouncer questioned; he held his hand up in the air in a way that signaled Shepard to stop walking.

"Jaruut sent me here," Shepard announced confidently. Had it not been for her Shadow Broker friend, she wouldn't have remembered what the password was to get in.

"Alright, go on in," the turian said. He cocked his head to the side and pointed his thumb towards the door, giving Shepard the OK to enter the VIP room.

The Commander sauntered her way into the place. Last time she was here, she had to deal with a bunch of thugs and scumbags in order to get that Ardat-Yakshi's attention. But today, not a single fuck was given from her as she was dead set to enjoy every minute of what little vacation time she had. She walked right past the crowded dance floor and towards the bar.

"Give me a shot of asari liquor," Shepard ordered. She sat on the stool and waited as the bartender prepared a drink for her.

"C-Comander S-Shepard! ?" a man exclaimed. Alarmed, Shepard turned her head around to see where the voice was coming from.

"Conrad Verner! ?" Shepard shrieked; she saw him standing a few meters away from her. "What the hell are you doing here! ?"

"Commander Shepard!" Conrad hollered again. Ecstatic, he ran towards her and gave her a tight hug. "I thought you were dead! I haven't heard from you in weeks!"

Irritated, Shepard forcefully brushed Conrad's restrictive arms away from her. "Conrad, since when did we ever keep in contact?" She was tempted to pull her gun out and shoot him in the foot again.

"Hey, don't I have the right to know whenever my number one idol goes missing in action again?" Conrad retorted; he proceeded to sit down on the empty bar stool to the left of Shepard. "I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

_Great, just my luck,_ Shepard grumbled to herself. She wanted to spend her shore leave alone with no interruptions whatsoever from anyone. She grabbed the shot of liquor that the bartender handed out to her and took a swig of it.

"You look nice in that dress, by the way," Conrad complimented.

Shocked from what she just heard, Shepard snapped her attention to the crazed fanboy. "…Thanks," she muttered. She looked down at her glass and clenched it with her hand; she was hoping that Conrad wouldn't go further than showering her with petty compliments. She hated having to deal with that stalker with a crush and would hesitate not one bit in pulling the trigger on him if he ever did another stupid thing. She had this sinking feeling that the creep was roaming his eyes all over her figure.

"You know, I've never seen you like this before," the fan noted with a trace of adoration in his words. "You should go out like this more often."

Shepard wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or just vomit from what she was hearing. Eyes narrowing, she snapped her head towards Conrad again and nearly jumped out of her seat when she noticed what he was wearing. _What the hell, why didn't I notice this until now?_ "Since when the hell did you start wearing suits from Giuli Vorn?" she spat.

Conrad shrugged. "Well, it's the VIP club after all, right? So why not dress up for the occasion?"

Shepard continued glaring at him. "Since when can you afford designer suits?"

"Oh, my wife gave this to me," he simply stated.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Shepard muttered, "Whatever," and went back to drinking her liquor. She finished every last drop and ordered another shot from the bartender.

The electronic music that surrounded them boomed all over the place, the sound of the bass filling Shepard's ears. The music was so loud that she could feel its effects flowing all over her form, as if she were being converted into one beating, human drum. Still, the loudness of the bass wasn't enough to obscure the ever growing awkward silence between her and the fan. She hated having to initiate small talk with him, but since she hated awkward silences even more, she asked him, "So…how is your wife, by the way? You keep mentioning her every time I see you, yet I never get to know much about who she is."

"Oh—uhm—actually," Conrad stammered; he was beginning to look uncomfortable. "…I don't—have a wife."

"What! ?" Shepard yelped; she gave him an utter look of disbelief. "But you just mentioned about her a couple of minutes ago! You acted as if you had one all along!"

Tugging at the collar of his suit, Conrad gulped and replied, "Y-yeah…sorry about that, Shepard. I shouldn't have lied to you. It's just that—" tears began to form in his eyes. "I-I don't actually have—any family, you see?"

_Wait—what! ?_ Shepard squawked in her thoughts, her expression swiftly turning into a disconcerted one. She shook her head at the unexpected turn of events and scratched the back of it in frustration. Had it not been for her own background of having no family to grow up with, she really would have shot Conrad in the foot for being such a cry-baby. She palmed her forehead and began rubbing it; she could hear the fanboy producing small sobs. She didn't want to see a grown man cry; she already had enough crap to deal with and swore to herself that she wasn't going to deal with anymore while on shore leave. So out of sheer empathy that was rarely seen in the Commander, she placed her hand on Conrad's trembling shoulders and patted him.

"Hey, stop that," she cooed in the best soothing voice she could muster. "Look, I understand what you're going through—I've been through that crap myself. Now stop crying and suck it up like a man. Here, I'll buy you a round of drinks on the house. That should get your mind off of these things."

Conrad sniffed and wiped his tears away. "R-really? Y-you h-have no f-family, too?"

Shepard rubbed the tip of her eyebrow with her index finger; she really didn't like talking about her past all that often, let alone with creepy fans for that matter. Conrad was lucky that the alcohol was beginning to loosen Shepard up a bit; otherwise, she would have hit him by now.

"I grew up as a street rat back on Earth. I had no family to speak of whatsoever. I did stay in the foster system for a while, but it didn't work out for me all that much. So I turned to gang life instead, then got sick of it and joined the Alliance."

"R-really…?"

Shepard exhaled an exasperated breath; she hated doing these kinds of talks. "Look, Conrad, if you're going to be a kill-joy for the rest of the night, then you might as well get out of this club and leave me in pea—" she choked on her words as a realisation immediately dawned upon her. "Wait—how the hell did you manage to get inside the VIP in the first place?"

Conrad's sniffles started to die down a bit. Wiping his nose, he answered, "W-well, I live h-here now…err, s-sort of."

"What the hell?" Shepard blurted. "Conrad, how many surprises do you have up your sleeve?"

Chuckling in between his fading sobs, the fan answered, "I-I started renting an apartment here. It was r-really cheap, too, for the quality of the place offered to me."

Shepard cocked her eyebrow and said, "Oh really?" She took another swig of her liquor.

"Y-yeah…too bad I have no one to share my bed with, though."

Upon hearing what had come out of Conrad's mouth, Shepard spat her drink and nearly choked again.

"Hey, watch yourself!" she could hear the bartender say with annoyance as she coughed violently. He pulled out a cloth and wiped the surface free of her spills.

"Hey, you o-okay?" Conrad asked, concern clouding his unstable voice. He was about to cry again.

Shepard let her coughs fade away before attempting to respond. After a moment passed, she said, "Conrad, you're the one I should be worrying about." She had this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that if she doesn't stop the big cry-baby from weeping, he'd probably go on and on about how he never once got to slam any hot piece of ass in his life, and Shepard would never hear the end of it. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she stated, "Look, if you're going to be a big pussy all night and wish to not have me stick a gun in your face again for it, why don't you…" her voice trailed off as a sudden idea hit her like a ton of bricks.

"…Why don't you show me around your apartment, then?" Shepard suggested with a dash of sultriness. Had she not been speaking under the influence of alcohol, she would have caught herself by surprise at what she just proposed. But right now, she could not give a flying fuck. She would do anything at this point to have Conrad just shut the damn hell up and wise up to it like a real man. And she was determined to show him just how…

She grabbed Conrad's wrist and tugged it, urging him to stand up and show her the way to his flat. "Come on, this place has too many annoying people for my tastes. Let's just get loud and spill some drinks at your pad."

Obliging with glee, Conrad yanked his wrist from Shepard's grasp and put his hand on hers. He lifted her up from the bar stool and commenced dragging her out of the smoky and earsplitting VIP club.

As they made their way towards the residential area, Shepard couldn't help but notice that the fan had been holding her hand throughout the entire trip. She was a little uncomfortable at the fact that he did so, as if he was treating her like a girlfriend or whatever.

"Uh, Conrad," Shepard spoke. "You can let go of my hand now."

"Oh," Conrad uttered; a blush formed on his cheeks. "I just didn't want you to get lost on our way, that's all."

"I can handle myself fine," Shepard spat as she crossed her arms. "Besides, I've got a gun and my biotics to defend myself with."

"Oh," Conrad uttered again, this time with a hint of disappointment. "Okay…"

Shepard resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sighing, she placed her hand on his shoulder and mentioned, "When we get to your place, how about we take a couple of drinks first? Ya know, loosen up a bit more? We never got to finish doing that back at the VIP."

"Sure!" Conrad piped up. "Anything for my favorite marine in the galaxy!"

Shepard fought the impulse to laugh and simply shook her head. She couldn't hide her smile, however; she really did pity the fool. She let out another stressed breath. "You know, Conrad, if we're going to do this right, at least do it with a little bit of military protocol thrown in." With that said, she excused herself by walking around Conrad and situating herself towards his right. "In the military, the place of honour is to the right. Any officer that's higher in ranking than you always sits or walks on your right side. Also—" she hooked her left arm around his right—"We are to hold each other's arms, not hands. Hand-holding and other displays of affection are discouraged. Oh, and walking on your right would make it easier for me to salute with my right hand as well if an Alliance officer happens to pass by me—not that we'd ever likely see another officer walk around this place, but still."

"Oh wow, this is all very exciting to learn, Commander!" Conrad chirped. "I didn't know about that!"

Shepard continued to bore the fan with all the little tidbits about military protocol—although in all honesty, he was more interested in listening to it than Shepard was in explaining every single minuscule rule and procedure all to him. But the Commander needed to find a way to get herself talking in order to avoid hearing all of Conrad's stupid adventures about him and creepy ideas about her. She was able to distract him long enough until they had reached their destination.

"And here we are!" Conrad exclaimed with excitement; he let go of Shepard's arm and opened the door.

As he switched the lights on, he could see the Commander blinking her eyes several times, completely stunned at what she was staring at.

_Is this déjà vu or what?_ she marveled.

The apartment they walked into wasn't just any old apartment; it was that asari succubus, Morinth's place before she got wiped out by her mother. In fact, it looked just the way it did during Shepard's first visit.

"Conrad," Shepard drawled. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Of course it is!" Conrad affirmed. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, Conrad, I have been here before, and this flat looks exactly the same as it did on my first visit."

"Oh," he blurted. "Well, I found this nice little studio apartment on the extranet, and the description said that I can rent it fully furnished."

Shepard cocked her eyebrow in disbelief. "Whatever," she muttered. "Just as long as you don't run into any trouble from Aria."

In fact, she was amazed that Conrad hadn't done so at this point. Usually, he would be dumb enough to endanger himself in the most absurd situations. Perhaps shooting him in the foot made him do something right after all—besides setting up a 'Shepards foundation' for refugees and orphans, that is.

Conrad sauntered over to the kitchen and pulled out two wine glasses from the cupboard. He filled them with red wine and then strolled to the living room with both glasses in his hands. "Well, I guess I can't impress you anymore now that you've seen this place before," he said as he set the glasses down on the coffee table. "But I can—"

"Conrad," Shepard articulated, her voice low, slow, and menacing. "What…is the meaning…of this?"

Conrad spun towards the direction of the Commander's voice. In the corner of the room, he could see her standing there with a look that screamed, _'I'm-going-to-fucking-kill-you-for-this'_, all the while pointing her finger at the very object that repulsed her.

"Oh, uhm…t-that's my shrine—o-of you," Conrad stammered. Feeling sheepish all of a sudden, he broke eye contact, uncomfortable with the look that his heroine was giving him.

Shepard gawked at the supposed shrine: she could see that it was a glass framed picture of her, and a bunch of burning candles surrounded it. What shocked her most though was that the picture in the frame was the very one that Conrad took when they first met on the Citadel—the one where she stupidly agreed to participate in when he asked her for it. The Marine clenched her fists; she wanted to knock over the silly little shrine and rip the picture apart to pieces, but before she could, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"What! ?" Shepard snapped as she whirled around.

"D-do you want to drink?" Conrad offered, his shaky hand reaching out to offer her the glass of wine; he was taken aback by her harsh actions.

Shepard glowered at the glass. With reluctance, she snatched it out of his hand. She didn't say anything, instead downing the wine as quickly as possible—she figured that releasing her inhibitions a little bit more was better than causing another ruckus. Conrad should be glad that the Marine was feeling nice today—she really wouldn't be doing him a favor had he not mentioned that he was an orphan as much as she was. Had circumstances been different, she would have been freaked out beyond comprehension at the creepiness of the fan's idol worship of her and just get rid of that damn shrine as quickly as possible. Perhaps another time, she would return and finish her business with demolishing it.

"Do you have anything stronger than this?" Shepard inquired. "I'm going to need some batarian ale or some krogan ryncol to get me loose."

"I don't drink alien alcohol all that much," Conrad stated. "But I do have some whiskey." He strolled back to the kitchen and began preparing some whiskey.

Shepard followed suit, setting the glass on the counter and walking up behind him. "Hey," she mentioned. "About what happened back there—I didn't mean to get angry, all right?" She put her hand on his shoulder—she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "This is all new to me, that's all. It's just going to take time for me to get used to."

"That's okay, Shepard," Conrad mumbled, a tinge of sadness lacing his voice. "I understand—you're just stressed out and all from having to save the galaxy so many times."

"Conrad, I—wait a minute, did you just say my name without addressing me as 'Commander'?"

Aware about the mistake he just made, Conrad jumped. "Ah, sorry about that! Excuse me," he apologised, his hand scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "I didn't notice that. Heh, good thing you caught me there."

This time, Shepard let herself roll her eyes as hard as she could; she was getting tired of all of Conrad's little slip-ups. "Okay, I don't care right now if you don't address me as that. Just call me whatever you want—I don't fucking care. All I want right now is my drink."

"All right then," Conrad acknowledged. He handed her his drink, grabbed his, and urged her to sit on the sofa.

She did, and waited for Conrad to arrive and sit down before drinking her whiskey. He sat across from her, and they both began taking a sip out of their tumblers.

They drank and chatted for a while, each passing minute gradually unraveling both Shepard's and Conrad's hang-ups, each sip of whiskey making them more relaxed. Eventually, it reached that point where both of them could feel the oncoming effects of the alcohol.

Shepard placed her tumbler down on the table and stood up, albeit in a wobbly fashion. It took her a while to walk over to where Conrad was sitting without toppling over. She managed to make it, but also had a hard time pulling him out of the couch. Luckily, he took the hint. He set his tumbler down and got out of his seat. He almost crashed into Shepard; his head was spinning. They were both on the brink of drunkenness.

Shepard gripped his shoulders and tried to steady herself. "Show me—your bedroom," she uttered in a garbled manner. "I want to see—how it looks like."

"Sure—thing," Conrad murmured; his speech was as disorderly as Shepard's. He walked over to the door-less bedroom with Shepard trying her best to follow suit without tripping over the steps.

"Nice—view," the Commander noted as she observed Conrad peering through the giant windows. "But that's not—what I came here for." She pressed her hands on the small of his back and started shoving him towards the bed.

"Hey what are you—" Conrad protested.

Shepard just ignored his confused complaint. She turned him around and pushed him roughly onto the bed. She pinned his hands above his head as she hoisted herself on top of him, her knees positioned on either side of his waist. "You said—you didn't have anyone—to share your bed with," the Commander slurred, a lazy smirk playing upon her lips. "Well, Conrad—that's about to change."


	2. Conrad After Dark

Before Conrad could say anything, Shepard crashed her mouth onto his. She was sloppy, her lips missing his every once in a while.

The fan widened his eyes in shock. He couldn't believe it. He absolutely could not believe it. Shepard—THE Commander Shepard—was kissing him—him of all people! So stunned by the unexpected action, Conrad merely lay there, unable to move at all. His mind lit up like fireworks at the new sensations and showed no mercy in slowing down.

Suddenly, the wetness that had ghosted his lips left him, its warmth changing into a shivering coldness.

"Huh-wha…?" he mumbled, completely dazed.

Shepard rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Conrad, if we're going to do this right, at least shut your eyes—you look too creepy with them open while I suck your face. Oh, and start doing something instead of lying there like a starfish."

Blinking furiously, Conrad shook his head, as if to clear the haziness that clouded his thoughts. "Ahhh, sorry about that…" he gave Shepard a sheepish grin.

"All right then, back to work," Shepard grumbled. She smashed her mouth onto Conrad's and initiated nibbling and sucking on his lower lip.

The fan emitted a groan in response. He still wasn't moving as per Shepard's request, however. But then an epiphany hit him the minute she eased the pressure on his lips. Back in the haze of his mind, he thought about all the things that happened in that instant. The Commander was here, right now, in his flat, assuming direct control over his body like the domineering woman she was. Not that he didn't mind having a hot woman on top of him, not at all—but this was perhaps the only chance in his lifetime that he would have in showing off all the tricks and techniques he'd learned so far to her. All the fantasies he had in how he would make some sweet love to the Commander can all come true at last.

Feeling Shepard's tongue plead for entrance, Conrad opened his mouth. He felt her rush into his wet cavern and tease his tongue, and he returned the gesture. He could taste the various alcoholic flavors that lingered in her mouth—the flavor of asari liquor, the flavor of human wine, the flavor of whiskey. He gently sucked her tongue, savoring the sweet tang of intoxication.

Shepard moaned, further tightening her grip on Conrad's wrists. They went on like this for a while, each taking turn in exchanging moans, in playing with each other's tongues, in teasing each other's lips until Shepard decided she had enough of it. She broke contact, taking time to catch her breath before releasing her hold on his wrists.

She lifted her head away from Conrad and let him catch his breath. She hoisted herself up from his waist for a bit so as to ease herself out of her black leather dress. She did it in such a slow, intentional way that she could feel Conrad's length rising up a bit and poking her inner thigh.

Shepard smirked; she was enjoying this little striptease of hers. She threw her dress to the side and continued to titillate the fanboy by removing her bra next, removing it ever so gradually, ever so seductively…

She unhooked the clasps at the back of her bra, and then let the black straps fall off her shoulders slowly on purpose. She held the cups for a bit, giving Conrad a lascivious smile before letting the bra fall to his stomach.

Conrad was breathing hard and his cock was growing hard. He still couldn't believe that _the_ Commander Shepard was on top of him, all topless and straddling his waist. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how he imagined her just the way he thought she'd look like underneath all those layers of fabric, how he wanted to touch those soft globes of flesh…

He reached his arm out towards one, but before he could even touchdown on those lovely, raspberry nipples, Shepard snatched his wrist and held it mid-air. She lowered herself back down again, although she was careful not to brush his bulge. Instead, she straddled herself just above his pubic area.

"It's rude to not complement a woman's figure before touching it, don't you think?" Shepard questioned with coyness.

Suddenly, her world was flipped upside down as she was pushed over by Conrad. It all happened in a flash that it took her by surprise and disoriented her. Before she had time to gather what had just happened, she found her arms being lifted above her head and pinned down by Conrad's hands. Soon, he was on top of her.

"Conrad what are you—"

"Shepard, you don't need to hear it from me to know how gorgeous you are," Conrad declared with sincerity, his face mere inches away from Shepard's. "You already know by now how much I worship and adore you."

_What—the—fuck…?_ Shepard thought in utter disbelief. What the _hell_ did she get herself into now? This wasn't like Conrad at all. Usually, he would be way too enthusiastic to the point of being a borderline creepazoid that it made her want to scrub herself from the foulness of it all. To actually hear him speak like a normal gentleman was just… _It's probably just the alcohol acting in his system,_ Shepard rationalised.

Too preoccupied in her thoughts, Shepard didn't notice Conrad moving his face away from hers and towards her breasts until she felt a tingling, sucking sensation on her left nipple. Her breathing hitched from the unexpected feeling. A moan escaped her lips as Conrad gently bit down on her nipple and pulled it with his teeth. His surprisingly expert tongue soothed the small sting. Even as he pulled back, he teased her, his lips tugging the last bits of her nipple before letting it go. Bolts of pleasure hit Shepard like lightning, and she whimpered from it.

"F-fuck," she stammered.

She couldn't believe at all how much she wanted this—and this was supposed to be a _pity fuck_, for fuck's sake! She didn't know whether to be ashamed of it or to be exhilarated in discovering that Conrad was really this _good _at pleasuring women—well, at least on the foreplay part. She was thinking about finishing herself off later, since she totally expected for the creepazoid to flop. But now, she wanted to see how well he would do with the actual fucking.

"That felt good, didn't it?" Conrad spoke, his voice awfully cheerful.

Shepard almost grimaced. _On second that, I think I'll just stick to being ashamed and wanting to get this over with. _She hated how cheesy he sounded—no finesse or sensuality in his words at all. "You know what, Conrad," she said. "Just shut the hell up for the rest of the session and continue doing what you're good at doing."

Conrad just shrugged. "Okay then." He moved his attention towards Shepard's ear, licking and nibbling it while his left hand tweaked her other nipple. His right hand traveled over to her knickers and began caressing the satin fabric that covered her intimate parts.

"Aaah…" Shepard moaned breathlessly. Her body started to tremble from the various degrees of sexual excitement she was receiving. Conrad rolled her nipple with his thumb and index finger while the fingernails of his right hand grazed the thin fabric that shielded her clit. His tongue swirled all over hear earlobe and played with the small opening, triggering the Marine to squirm and clutch onto his back. The gratifying touches she was getting from her ear, breast, and lady bits circulated throughout her entire system, its level of intensity increasing, so much until the signals all collided into one big supernova.

Shepard tightened her grip on Conrad, her legs wrapping around him as she endured the powerful bang. She cried in delight, her nails digging into his shirt as she rode the last waves of bliss. As they died down, Shepard loosened her hold on Conrad a little and took some time to catch her breath. She could feel his bulge poking her intimate bits, even as she wrapped her legs loosely around him.

Conrad let go of Shepard's ear and gazed into her eyes. Shepard had no option but to look into his, and she could see the yearning that clouded them. She was feeling uneasy about this kind of thing, so before he could prolong it, she snatched the collar of his suit and demanded, "I have to admit, Conrad, that was really good, but cut the crap and let's just get down to fucking each other senseless, shall we?"

"Sure—"

"Sssshhh, the only thing you're allowed to voice are rutting noises."

Shepard flashed a smug smile at Conrad then went to doing business by fumbling with the buttons of this suit. Sitting up, Conrad aided her by undoing the rest of his buttons and removing the top over his head. Shepard pushed him back down onto the bed so that she was on top of him this time. She ran her hands all over his hairy chest, moving them slowly down towards his abs; she was surprised to find out how inconceivably toned they were.

Leering, she commented, "You know, you don't look half-bad under all that mess."

Conrad's face reddened, feeling bashful all of a sudden. "W-why err w-well I—"

Shepard's lips rammed onto his, forcing him to cut his speech off. She let go in a hurry and breathed, "No talking, remember?"

Conrad nodded in obedience. Shepard gave him another one of her smug grin and then commenced on swiveling her hips lightly over his groin. The contact sent shivers up her spine, and she could feel her underwear getting moist by the second. Conrad moaned in return, his callous hands grazing all over Shepard's sides and bosom as she dry humped him.

"Take your pants off," she commanded. Stopping, she got off and sat next to Conrad so that he could be able to ease out of his trousers. He unbuckled his belt and removed his trouser one leg at a time. He undid the ties of his shoes next, kicking them off his feet and removing his socks as well. All that was left on him were his briefs, and Shepard could see that there was a bit of pre-cum stain on it.

She bit her lower lip and looked away; she was trying so hard not to laugh. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this and regretted not downing a couple more shots before getting down to dirty business. She wanted to forget everything that would happen tonight, forget it all in the morning…but then, on the other hand, she had developed a morbid curiosity as to how the fan's performance would be like. He was good at fondling her so far, and she wanted to see if he'd perform on the same level when it came to penetrating her. If he turned out to be a failure as she expected, she could always drink a shot of ryncol or two before hitting the sack.

She resumed her attention to Conrad and was surprised to see him completely nude (and not at all surprised to see him flashing his usual sheepish smile). She figured that he must have taken off his briefs when she looked away. Her eyes travelled down to where his package lay out in the open: he was adequately sized, perhaps average in length. That, she expected—well, sort of—she imagined him to be smaller than that, to be honest—but still, she was relieved to know that it was enough to fill her. What she didn't expect, however, was how thick his girth was and how it curved oh so delightfully. The way it stood out from his body made it look as though he were proud to show off that aspect.

Shepard smacked her lips at the thought. She was now curious to see—wait; did she just _lick_ her _lips_? Eyes bulging in surprise, she flew her hand towards her mouth to cover the embarrassment. She pretended to rub her palm back and forth over her lips, as if to hide the fact that she just admitted to liking what she saw and didn't want Conrad to see her reaction.

Conrad was about to speak, but then remembered that if he did, Shepard might do more than hush him and probably slam him around with her powerful biotics this time. Instead, he gave her a puzzled expression that read, _'Are you okay?'_

Noticing this, Shepard removed her palm and shook her head. "It's nothing—just dry lips, that's all."

Conrad nodded his head in acknowledgement, causing the Commander to sigh in relief. Of course, she should have seen it coming. Conrad was, after all, quite a thick-headed one—definitely in more ways than one, as she recently saw. Speaking of which…

"All right, no more stalling," Shepard announced. "Let's get down to business now—I want you to fuck me—fuck me good, fuck me hard. Give me all you've got." She stuck her hand out and made a 'come hither' signal with her fingers.

Wasting no time, Conrad pulled her towards him and slid her knickers off. He threw it aside and didn't even bother with removing her heels—hell, he thought it was sexy to see his favorite celebrity look like this, especially in how she was all splayed out beneath him. He placed his palm over her shaven pussy, his digits leisurely sliding back and forth over her moist folds. Shepard trembled, her hips bucking up and pleading for more. She felt two wet fingers slide into her hole and she groaned at the joy it gave her.

Conrad pressed his digits along the anterior part of her soft, pink wall and skimmed over it, as if he were searching for something. When he landed upon a spongy lump, he brushed it ever so slightly, and it was enough to set Shepard off like firecrackers. Beaming in satisfaction, Conrad grabbed her hips and angled her in a manner where he could penetrate her deeply with ease. Shepard's face lit up, her curiosity burning brighter and her body becoming hotter from the anticipation of it all.

Conrad tapped the head of his cock onto Shepard's pink nub. He slid back and forth over the nub, making the Commander shiver again. Finally, he slid his cock in, immersing himself bit by bit at an unhurried pace until he completely filled all of her. He moaned at the new sensation, the tightness of Shepard's pussy instigating him to mimic her tremors. He slid back out at that same pace and slammed himself back into her in one swift motion.

Shepard screamed, the thick feeling of Conrad's cock and his tantalizing moves making her go wild. She gripped her thighs and held them as far back as she could, bringing them close to her chest in order to allow Conrad better access to her sweet spot. She also hung her calves over his shoulders for support. He pulled back then glided forward in one smooth stroke, causing her to scream again. He repeated it several times, each succession being longer and deeper than the last, each new pump of his rod bringing the Marine into a breathless frenzy.

Conrad groaned and closed his eyes for a second, reveling the slick and velvety texture of Shepard's cunt. He predicted that she would be tight, but not this tight. He reckoned that Cerberus must have done a good job at not only piecing her back together, but improving upon her certain assets as well. He pumped a bit faster, the sudden change of pace triggering Shepard to cry out in ecstasy.

She could feel pressure building up inside her and a strange feeling of needing to go to the bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut; it was getting so intense, but there was no way she was stopping now. Heart racing and chest heaving, the pressure reached her peak at last and unraveled itself in a flash, as if stars exploded behind her eyes. She felt Conrad immediately pull out as a jet of crystal clear, alkaline fluid gushed out of her engorged cunt. Unable to control herself, Shepard clutched the sheets, her hands balling into fists as her Skene's gland sprayed liquid everywhere.

The fluid landed upon the sheets, staining them wet. Some landed on Conrad, and, well, _damn_—Shepard was not going to lie; she found that really hot and it just increased her desire all the more to be fucked by him. She saw him scoop up a drop of it and insert it into his mouth, his apparent tasting and sucking noises making her loose her shit. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to dodge her reactions this time, for Conrad surely noticed. Leering, he grabbed her arm and led her out of bed. He guided her over to the windows and had her arrange herself in a bent-forward position with her hands placed on the window sill and her butt sticking out.

Realising what the fan was doing, Shepard remarked seductively, "I like where this is going."

Conrad grinned; he grabbed her ass and positioned his dick inside her soaked pussy. Shepard welcomed his reentry with a relaxed sigh. At this point, she couldn't give a damn about what people would think of her if they ever found out that she had sex with her number one groupie. Not that anyone would even believe her or Conrad anyway, since it was most likely that people would just laugh it off if they ever heard that Conrad eventually got around to nailing his favorite celebrity—and going at it like a boss.

And hell, she just couldn't deny it anymore. The way he had handled her so far was turning her on. She hadn't had sex this well in years, and perhaps she was wrong about Conrad after all. She thought he was a lonely virgin, but she thought wrong. Okay, he was still a bit lonely, but considering his sexual repertoire, he definitely wasn't a virgin. She wondered how he even got women to have sex with him, since he seemed to come on a bit strong every time she encountered him. No wait, scratch that—he even seemed to become less of a creep the more he got it on with her. She also had to confess that he didn't look too shabby, either. He had a decent physique and nice face—well, perhaps if he smiled that creepy smile a lot less, he'd look more than nice.

_Wait a minute,_ Shepard mused. _What the hell am I think—_

Her train of thoughts was cut off as she felt Conrad slam himself into her, the abrupt feeling of fullness making her hitch her breathing. She emitted a moan—it felt good, so good to just simply feel that thick, fat cock inside of her that she dropped what she was originally thinking and decided to not give a damn about it and just enjoy being in the moment.

"Slap my ass, man. Slap. My. Ass," she demanded wantonly. She was so lost in the ecstasy; felt so much like a fucking porn star that it was making her feel more turned on than usual. She wondered of there were any bottles of that Hallex club drug left around the flat, since this place used to belong to Morinth, after all…

She felt a quick sting on her ass cheek and yelped in shock. She had little time to recover before another one landed on her, and she groaned at the pleasure that the pain gave her. She could feel Conrad start to thrust faster, and she ground her hips back and forth against him in order to intensify the sensations.

Conrad grunted, the ramming of Shepard's luscious ass giving him so many sweet feelings. Their thrusts were erratic, but soon became in sync as they found their pattern. He bent over and fondled one of her breasts while his mouth bit her neck, making her wail in delight. He suppressed a moan and began sucking on her soft flesh, wanting to hear her cry out in ecstasy again, wanting to feel the thrill he received from pleasing her, knowing fully well that he was the one causing all of this. He wanted her to know much he had coveted this , how long he had waited for this moment, how he had put so much effort into preparing for it all. He was relieved to know just how much he was making her feel good, how great he was in hitting her hot spots in all the right places. He had anticipated before with anxiety that such an encounter would not go well. But luckily, Shepard's moaning and groaning and wanton behavior said otherwise.

The Marine breathed heavy pants. She was becoming sweaty from all the hot action that bits of her hair clung to her face. She tossed her head and slicked her hair back. She sensed Conrad's lips leaving her neck and his hand back on her ass as he pounded her faster and harder. Looking through the wide window in front of her, she could see the smog and gritty lights of the Omega skyline filling her field of vision. She could also hear the faint booming of the bass from the Afterlife club several floors beneath them. Omega never seemed to sleep, and that was one of the many things that Shepard liked about it. She wondered if there was anyone out there who had caught her in the heat of passion. The mere idea of her naked form being pushed up against the window for all to see thrilled her, and she smiled salaciously at the thought. She also wondered if Conrad really had a stash of Hallex hidden somewhere and that he somehow slipped it inside their drinks in secret. This was all just too good to be true for Shepard; either that or maybe Harbinger was watching her right now and assuming direct control of Conrad—actually, scratch that—that mere notion gave her the creeps.

She almost laughed out loud at the thought, but then faint laughter was quickly replaced by loud moans as Conrad pounded her. She could hear hefty pants coming from him, and it muddled the air along with hers. He was plowing her balls-deep now, each thrust making her wail in satisfaction. She was close, so close to reaching climax. She was desperate to get there as soon as possible that she banged her ass harder against Conrad's dick and reached her hand down to rub her clit in a vehement fashion. She rubbed, rubbed and rubbed until her muscles spasmed from the blast of pleasure that invaded her. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed—she came so hard that a mass of stars burst behind her eyes like a million supernovae going on at once in the core of the galaxy. Her mind was blank, but her body was still convulsing, as if she was hit by an earthquake and was now experiencing the aftershocks. She was so overwhelmed by the gratifying sensations that her legs almost buckled under her, only to be caught in time by Conrad.

He kept a hold of her waist and hips, determined to come after her. He was ramming her drenched pussy so fast and so hard that the slapping sounds can be heard from his humping—hell, it turned him on as much as it turned Shepard on. He slapped her already reddened buttocks a couple more times despite her being completely out of it, then clamped it tightly as he felt himself rush towards the exit. He shuddered and grunted as the involuntary clenching of his muscles spurted his seed all over the moist inside of Shepard's cunt. His movements became erratic and sluggish as his cock continued to deposit his seed inside her, and he wallowed in the pleasure of it all. As the last of his jizz spilled inside her and the last of his movements died down, he exhaled one last moan. He lifted Shepard up from her bent-forward position and dragged her with all his might over to the bed.

They both collapsed onto the soft surface, their chests heaving and their bodies completely spent. Conrad turned his face towards Shepard's. She wasn't looking at him, but that didn't stop him from placing his fingers upon her damp tresses and caressing them. Shepard sensed him touching her locks and shifted her attention towards him.

"Holy shit," she uttered, her expression filled with astonishment. She couldn't believe it—she just could not believe it. Conrad _Fucking_ Verner just upgraded himself from an annoying-fan-whom-she-wouldn't-hesitate-to-kick-in-the-quad to a fucking _groupie_. She still had a hard time sinking in the fact that he proved her wrong in the bedroom by pretty much fucking owning her like a boss.

"Holy fucking shit!" she reiterated. "Just—wow…"

Conrad beamed, so pleased that his idol was very approving of his performance. "I saved all of that just for you," he professed, his face scooting closer towards her's.

Catching this, Shepard seized the fanboy's head and forced him to close the distance between them. Their lips collided and stayed frozen for a moment until Shepard broke contact.

"Conrad, I know you wanted to do that," the Commander spoke between quick breaths. "I wouldn't have let you done it, but tonight, I'm letting you off the hook since you've been so good to me."

Her spontaneous act caught Conrad off guard, rendering him speechless. Only the sounds of his heavy panting could be heard, and he shifted himself back to his original position in order to catch his breath.

Smirking in triumph, Shepard propped herself up on one elbow and started doodling small circles on the mattress with her other hand.

"So," she said, the smirk on her face widening; there was a sparkle of licentious inquisitiveness in her eyes. "Tell me where and how you got so competent in the bedroom."

Flattered, Conrad scratched the side of his head in response and answered awkwardly, "Well, before you became famous, I was a groupie for that famous pop singer superstar back on Earth, '$hakeriA Minae'."

"What," Shepard blurted in an incredulous manner. "Are. You. Serious?"

"Yeah!" Conrad chirped. "She had a handful of men who wanted to be her groupies. The most devoted of us called ourselves, '$hakerians'. And we would have done anything to reach the stars and become close to our favorite one."

Shepard gave him a long, sideways glance. "Shakeria, huh? So…did you end up sleeping with her?"

"Y-yeah, but…"Conrad paused, hesitant to tell Shepard the whole story. He scratched the side of his head again and looked away from her in embarrassment. "…she said that I wasn't very good in bed and that I should stop being her groupie, since no fan that can't please her had the right to get groupie status."

Shepard palmed her forehead with her free hand, rubbing it back and forth in annoyance. What she was hearing was so ridiculous, so _Conrad _yet to discover that he had been rejected before made her internally laugh at him and pity him simultaneously. She wanted to give him a hug and kick him in the nuts at the same time.

"So what happened next?" she asked as she lifted her palm away from her forehead and returned to making figure-eight's on the mattress.

"I was downtrodden and devastated for a very long time, Shepard," Conrad said, sadness filling his puppy eyes. "I felt like she betrayed me. So I—along with the other rejected Shakerians—created a smear campaign in rebuttal, and she got even angrier at me. But I didn't care—I was successful in having the paparazzi publish the nastiest secrets about her."

Shepard shook her head, still bewildered that she was even hearing all of this. "_Pfft_ fandom. I'm sorry Conrad, but that's one thing I'll never understand."

Conrad shrugged. "Well, you're a megastar yourself, Shepard. Of course you won't understand it all completely."

"Yeah whatever, I really don't care. Just tell me what else happened after that incident."

"I haven't found anyone else to fathom over for a long time, to be quite honest. And then I heard about you—about how you did so many great things for the Alliance and then became the first human Spectre and then the savior of the galaxy—"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

Shepard waved her free hand in the air, as if to tell Conrad that she had understood enough and that he should stop talking about that part. He continued where he left off and said, "Actually, uhm, when I heard that you were back in business, I went over to Sha'ira's place on the Citadel—twice, in fact."

"The Consort?" Shepard blurted, her interest rising. "What for?"

Conrad bit his lower lip and looked away from her; now he was really hesitant on telling her the good stuff. "Uhh can you scoot closer for a bit? I think I'm more comfortable in just whispering this to you than saying it out loud."

Shepard just rolled her eyes.

"Hey, I know there's no one else here, but this is something that I still have a hard time confessing flat out loud."

"Fine, whatever works for you."

Shepard scooted closer, her ear hovering over Conrad's mouth. She heard him mumble, "I-was-desperate-and-didn't-want-to-make-the-same-mistake-as-last-time-so-I-had-her-help-me-out-with-sexual-techniques."

She moved back and bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh from what she just heard. "So you went and got a little extra 'help' from a prostitute just so you could get more women to be willing on being nailed by you."

"Well yes, but not for that reason," Conrad specified.

"Really?" Shepard said coquettishly. "Then what for?"

Conrad twiddled his thumbs; it was getting more difficult by the minute in telling Shepard his whole story. He was awfully shy. "I...I-I did it so I that I would be ready for you."

Shepard's eyes blinked rapidly at the confession she just heard. She didn't know whether to feel flattered or just slap a Singularity on Conrad's ass for being so strange or what. "Wait, so you mean you just wanted to get into my pants the same way you wanted to get into that Shakeria woman's pants."

"No—well—sort of. You see, this time, I wanted it to be for a little more than that."

Shepard froze, flabbergasted from everything she was hearing. It took a long time for those words to sink into her head. Conrad saw this and avoided her stare. He distracted himself by counting all the little visible marks on the ceiling.

When Shepard was done processing everything that Conrad had spoken, she scrunched her eyebrows, her expression displaying suspicion. "Conrad, I've got some newsflash for you", she articulated sternly. "If you want to get into a relationship with me—I'm out of the dating game." She inched her face close to his and hissed, "I sacrificed a man near and dear to me back on Virmire in order to fulfill the mission. It wasn't easy for me to do, but it had to be done. I haven't dated anyone else ever since. With the weight of the galaxy on my shoulders, I don't have time for such things."

Conrad stopped counting the ceiling marks and turned his gaze towards Shepard. "Oh…I see," he murmured, his face showcasing feelings of dejection.

Sighing, Shepard swept her fingers all over his hair. "Listen…you've got a LOT of things to work on if you ever want a chance with me. You may be nice, but sometimes, you just come on too strong."

"I can fix that—"

"Conrad, no. Just—no, okay? This isn't something that can be fixed overnight. I need time, alright? So consider tonight's little intercourse to be a one-time deal."

Conrad was crestfallen. This wasn't what he was expecting to hear at all. He had tried so hard to gain his idol's affections, only to come to this conclusion. "Okay, Shepard," he mumbled, disappointment apparent in his speech.

Shepard grimaced; she hated the direction this was going in. "You can still be my number one fan for now."

Conrad smiled wryly at that suggestion. Sure, he didn't mind, but still... "Of course, Shepard."

Shepard seemed to mimic his wry smile. This was one of those rare times where she had the patience to be nice to him, but only because she pitied him so greatly. Suddenly, however, a brilliant idea came into her mind. "You know," she remarked, her voice soft and gentle that it almost seemed like she was whispering. "The way you're acting right now…I really like that. Honest to goodness, I really do. You should show that side of you more often—it's really genuine."

She saw the sadness in Conrad's face fade away as his expression changed into an optimistic one. Chuckling at his reaction, she shook her head and kissed his forehead goodnight. She went about in preparing herself for sleep, taking her shoes off and scrambling under the sheets. "If you don't mind," she said with a yawn. "I'm going to be crashing your pad for the night. I am way too tired to be walking back to my ship at this hour."

"Make yourself at home, Shepard," Conrad said. He watched her settle herself on the left side of the bed, her figure tossing and turning a bit until she found the right amount of comfort to lull herself to sleep in. Sighing, Conrad followed suit and settled himself on the vacant spot, his body facing Shepard's. He could see that she was sleeping on her side and that her back was turned towards him.

He stared at her sleeping form for several minutes, watching it rise and fall a bit as her lungs inhaled oxygen and exhaled carbon dioxide. He wished he could see how her lovely face looked like in its sleeping form, but he knew that she turned away from him for a reason. He was still somewhat hurting from what she said to him, but at the same time, he felt this awe-inspiring, eye-opening hope from the very last words she said before she wished him a goodnight's rest. He was still completely mixed up about his feelings, however. Like Shepard, he would probably also need time to process the words she told him. And while he knew that she probably wouldn't like it if he cuddled her, he opted to do it anyway—but only after she started snoring, so as to not to accidentally wake her.

He scooted himself closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He could feel her form radiate heat, and it was soothing to him. He nuzzled his face against her smooth neck and inhaled her scent. It was tangy and smelled of sex, dirt, and alcohol. There was a hint of cheap perfume there that had long faded away and been replaced by her musky smell.

"Goodnight, Shepard," Conrad whispered, his breath faintly blowing against her soft skin. He kissed it goodnight and closed his eyes, the last of his confused yet happy thoughts waning as he made his way to dreamland.


	3. The Day After

The Commander woke up with a headache. The way it squeezed her brain hurt so badly that she groaned from the pain. She put her hand on her temples and rubbed them in order to soothe her aching.

"Need…painkillers," she mumbled. She attempted to rise out of bed, only to be stopped by something constricting her. She looked down to where the source was and nearly shrieked in surprise when she saw Conrad's arm around her waist. Now more alert than ever, she could also feel him breathe down on her neck. She shuddered not from the actual breath blowing against her skin, but from the thought that her crazed fanatic was all up against her personal space. Forget the headache—she could withstand that long enough to pry herself out of Conrad's hold and plan an escape route out of his flat.

She eventually managed to wrench herself out of his arm, but it was not without struggle. She didn't want him to be alarmed and devastated to know that by the time he woke up, she was already sneaking out the door. She was relieved to see that Conrad slept like a log, and didn't have to worry about alarming him from the slightest tip-toeing noise.

And so she grabbed her things and dressed herself as fast as possible. She slipped her knickers on and hooked her bra on, but she took time to pull her black leather dress over her head. She was always annoyed at how it lacked a zipper at the back—Kasumi could have at least shoplifted a dress with a better design. Once everything was in place, Shepard smoothed her hair and the creases of her dress in order to look more presentable. She opted to not wear her heels until she was out of Conrad's apartment, just in case the clanking noises do wake him up.

In fact, she figured that she would dilly-dally for a few minutes and perhaps find something in Conrad's medicine cabinet to alleviate her headache. She also needed to go to the bathroom very badly.

"Damnit," she hissed. "This is so not like Kasumi's little heist."

Annoyed at the several things she needed to do before escaping, she raced to the bathroom in order to use the toilet and find those damn pills that she needed. She was successful in doing so, and when she emerged, she saw that Conrad was still sleeping like a log.

"Okay, good," she breathed. "I'll be taking some of his pills now…"

She tip-toed over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass out of the cupboard. She filled it with water and sipped a little bit of it. Then, she popped the pills in her mouth and gulped the rest of her water. "Hopefully, this would be enough to ease my headache," she muttered. Setting the glass down on the counter, she switched her focus back to Conrad. "Nope, still asleep."

Smirking at her little triumph, she made her way towards the exit. She abruptly stopped as she walked a little past by the godforsaken 'Shepard shrine'. Halting in her tracks, she took a few steps back and glared at it. She still didn't like how it was even there at all. It gave her the creeps, and she was all the more glad to crush it with her biotics. Her fists set off a blue glow as she mustered up the energy she needed to cast a Throw onto the damned shrine.

However, a sudden realization dawned upon her. She withdrew her powers—she couldn't do it. The amount of noise she'd make from all the commotion would just wake Conrad up. And even if he didn't, she still couldn't bring herself to do it for some reason. Shepard huffed; this usually wasn't like her to hesitate on such a decision. All of this conviction was starting to get on her nerves. Growling in frustration, she opted to just steal the damn photograph and deal with it later once she got back to the Normandy.

She walked over towards the exit and pressed the codes on the door to get it to open. With the framed picture in her right hand and her pair of heels in her other, she gave her most devoted fan one last look. She hated having to cut her vacation time on Omega so shortly, but she couldn't stay here any longer or else Conrad would just continue to bother her. She could see him stirring and was afraid that he would wake up any second now.

"I'm sorry, Conrad," she murmured, guilt tainting her voice. "But I have to go now."

* * *

"Thinking about past missions. Got a minute? You might learn something," the veteran mercenary queried.

"Not this time, Zaeed," Shepard replied.

Zaeed gave her a wave of dismissal. "Whenever you have the time then; I've got a story about a goddamned hanar Spectre up my sleeves."

Shepard nodded then continued on her merry way towards the ship's garbage dump. In her hands was the glass framed photo of her. She took one last glance at it: it showed her in her old armour, posing like a badass with her pistol in hand. That pistol was the very same one she used to shove into Conrad's face. A wry smile appeared on Shepard's lips; she was surprised to see that fanboy still had the gall to use this picture as a shrine centerpiece—she figured he would have burned it after she had used that gun to threaten him.

She shook her head; she was almost sorry to get rid of the pathetic little thing, but it had to be done. She flung it with so much force that it landed unto the pile of rubbish with an audible crack—the frame had shattered, leaving it broken and its remaining pieces scattering everywhere.

The Commander dusted her hands; that was the least she could do to get rid of that haunted thing forever. Business taken care of at last, she turned around and marched towards Zaeed's place on the floor.

"Back for more?" he prompted.

"So about that hanar Spectre story you mentioned earlier…"

* * *

The Commander stood bare under the shower head, her hands working vigorously to exfoliate her skin. She literally needed to go scrub herself after realizing what she had woken up to this morning. Now that her headache was gone, she took this time to reflect on last night's events. She rummaged through the crevices of her mind, trying to recall what happened last night.

She saw flashes of memories, one of which revealed her being wasted at the Afterlife club, then being led to some apartment, then rutting like space deer—

"Damnit," Shepard hissed. She was trembling, and it was definitely not from the water, for it was too warm to make her cold. The immediate emersion of recollections of Conrad Verner in her mind forced her to scrub her arms harshly. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about how the hell the whole thing happened. She moved her washcloth down her abs and scrubbed the taut skin back and forth. Her mind was still racing, her memories still jumbled. No, she didn't want to think about it at all. She moved her hands even lower, her washcloth circling over her hip bones. She felt ashamed in letting herself go, throwing herself away just like that—but then she remembered that she pitied Conrad, and that was her justification for doing it.

She dragged her washcloth over her mons pubis, holding it still for a minute before letting it fall to the floor.

"_Damnit_!" she growled. Her hand flew straight to her clit as she got down to rubbing it furiously. She couldn't help it anymore; she needed to be touched again.

Her mind harkened back to the scenes of her being pleasured by Conrad, of her crying out in ecstasy from the heat of it all. She moaned, her fingers circling her clit faster as her mind played and rewound those raunchy scenes over and over again. She hated it, hated how she allowed herself to bask in such lewdness; hated how she didn't have the balls to admit how much she loved it and wanted more.

She hit her climax, her muscles clenching and her hips bucking from the carnal sensations flooding her. She cried out in satisfaction, her legs giving out under her as she rode the last waves of her orgasm. She let herself fall to the wet floor and slammed the metallic shower wall with her fist.

"_Uggh_," she grumbled; she nestled her forehead against the wall. She slammed it one last time, her fists shaky and tense.

Conrad Verner had totally ruined her, and she would be lying to herself if she said that she didn't need him. She thought back to the post-coital events, where she and the fan were just lying on the bed and discussing the most ridiculous things. She reminisced chuckling from his backstory, about how he went to great lengths just to be accepted by his favorite star, about how he'd done the same for Shepard. And then there was that other confession of his afterwards, about how he was hoping that their one-night stand would lead to something more.

"Did he really…?" Shepard jeered. She wanted to bash Conrad's head for being so naïve. She also wanted to kiss him for being so naïve. He was like a puppy to her—an adorable, stupid little puppy.

Perhaps the hardest thing for her to admit was not her enjoyment of the sexual intercourse—she confessed to liking that long ago—but that she was developing an attraction for Conrad. Her mind played the remaining segments of last night's scene: she told him about how genuine he appeared in that moment, about how under all that fanaticism, she saw a glimpse of the real Conrad. She told him how she adored that and that he should act like that more often.

Shepard thumped her forehead against the wall. She didn't know that Conrad had a crush on her. But considering what kind of person he was, she shouldn't be surprised at all and should have seen that coming. When she thought about it, Conrad Verner wasn't that bad of a person—he really was just a harmless fan. But if only he could just turn the creepiness factor down a notch, she might consider going on a date or two with him.

Growling at the madness of it all, she stood up and turned the shower off. She grabbed a towel from the shelf, wrapped it around her, and got out of the bathroom. She left a trail of droplets on the cabin floor as she made her way towards her private terminal.

She turned it on, its translucent screen radiating a vibrant orange as words flickered across it. She surfed the extranet, searching the directories for contact information on Conrad Verner. When she found it, she clicked on his e-mail address and commenced typing up a letter for him.

* * *

Conrad groaned, rubbing his eyes and stretching his limbs as he awoke from his sleep. He sat up and looked at the empty space next to him. He knitted his eyebrows; he could have sworn that someone else was sleeping there last night…

"Was I dreaming?" he wondered out loud. He plopped back onto his pillow, contemplating about what he just experienced.

He recalled seeing a commander—_the_ Commander Shepard—at the Afterlife club, then taking her home with him. He also recalled experiencing the most surreal moments after that. He bedded her, which seemed way too real just for a dream. He glanced back at the empty space next to him—it couldn't be. If Commander Shepard really was there with him last night, she would still be there with him this morning.

Conrad emitted a sigh. "Well if that wasn't the best dream I've ever had."

He got out of bed and didn't realize until now how naked he was. Scratching his head at the confusion, he shrugged it off and assumed that he must have been too tired to change into nightwear. He strode over to his walk-in wardrobe and pulled out some loungewear to put on. He finished dressing himself in them, smoothing down the wrinkles before stepping out.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he stepped on something cold and rough and nearly slipped on it. He stopped and looked down at the intruder; he saw that it was a piece of odd jewelry. Startled, he picked up the object and took a closer look at it. It was a smooth, metallic collar-necklace. It was a bit thick and heavy for a necklace, and Conrad could see that it was made out of platinum. In the middle was a rounded, inverted triangle design of some sorts, and a thin hoop circling underneath it. It looked to be Asari in design and must have cost a fortune.

Conrad tilted his head to the side; he didn't remember where on Omega this necklace came from and was for sure that he didn't buy it. He strolled over to the living room and was about to place the necklace down on the coffee table until he saw two tumblers on the surface. He raised his eyebrows; there was no way they should have been left out in the open. He scrunched his face in contemplation, coming to the conclusion that if he left those tumblers out overnight without bothering to wash them and put them back in the cupboard, then what he had perceived to be just a dream was in fact, real. But then if that was the case, he wondered why Shepard wasn't here.

"She just left without saying goodbye," he said out loud, a frown forming on his face.

He put the necklace down on the table and picked up the tumblers, and saw that one of them had lipstick stain on its rim. An idea popped into his head; beaming, he decided to keep the tumbler and necklace as pieces for his shrine. He put the unstained tumbler down and scooped the necklace up in his hand. Walking over to his shrine, he was puzzled to see that his photo of Commander Shepard wasn't there. Assuming that he must have misplaced it somewhere, he shrugged it off and put down the necklace and tumbler in its place.

"I'll go find that picture later," he said. "I've got some other business to do in the meantime."

He strode over to his office desk and booted up his private terminal. When it finished loading the GUI, Conrad clicked on the IM app and signed in. He saw that only one person was online right now; regardless, he initiated conversation with him. The chat box appeared and he began typing:

_**No1ShepardsFan:**__ Hey buddy! How's it goin?  
__**Infiltrait0rN7:**__ We are building a consensus. Please try again later  
__**No1ShepardsFan:**__ Okaaay well anyway, I just wanted to tell you about some exciting news I have  
__**Infiltrait0rN7:**_ _Specify  
__**No1ShepardsFan:**__ I JUST HAD SEX  
__**No1ShepardsFan: **__And it felt so good  
__**Infiltrait0rN7: **__We do not understand this organic interaction. Please elaborate  
__**No1ShepardsFan: **__Shepard just let me put my penis insider her  
__**Infiltrait0rN7: **__...  
__**Infiltrait0rN7:**__ Shepard-Commander?  
__**No1ShepardsFan:**__ Yeah_

Just then, a pop-up appeared on Conrad's screen, alerting him about one new message that recently appeared in his inbox. He ignored the chat window for a moment and checked his inbox. The following e-mail read:

_From: Cdr. Shepard  
Subject: About Last Night_

_Hey,_

_Sorry I had to leave without notice; I couldn't stall any longer. My shore leave was up and my ship would have left without me if I didn't arrive at the dock on time. I just wanted to say that I had fun last night and that I appreciate the experiences we shared. If we ever run into each other again, just remember the very last words I told you that night—I want to see you walk the talk the moment I see you next time._

—_Shepard_

Conrad sighed; he was relieved to know that Shepard ended up enjoying her time with him. He smiled as his screen flashed an alert on his chat window, indicating that his 'Infiltrait0rN7' friend had just replied to his text. He continued ignoring it for a little while longer, still lost in happiness about the e-mail he just received from his idol. He clicked 'Reply' on the e-mail interface and set off to writing his elated correspondence.

* * *

Back in the Normandy, the Commander strolled into the med bay to have some serrice ice brandy with the good doctor. They chatted and relaxed for a while, and after they were done, Shepard went over to the AI Core to see what Legion was up to.

"Shepard-Commander?" the geth spoke.

"Yes, Legion?" Shepard replied.

"We have gathered intelligence on your interactions with a recent male organic."

Alarmed at what she was hearing, Shepard raised her eyebrows and inquired, "Who, Zaeed?"

"Incorrect," Legion answered.

"Then who?" Shepard hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"Conrad Verner."

Shepard froze, her mind racing as to how in the galaxy did Legion know about that. Her hands were trembling, and she curled them into fists. The robot had a lot of explaining to do, and she couldn't wait to biotic-Slam the crap out of it in order to get the answers she needed.

"Tell me," Shepard hissed. "How the hell did you know about all of this?"

Legion didn't see the impending doom upon him. When he told her everything she needed to know, she hesitated not one bit to Slam the crap out of him, anyway. Now that he was knocked out, Shepard marched out of the room with triumph and resumed her usual duties.

* * *

**End notes:** Well there you have it; Conrad finally had sex…LIKE A BOSS

But anyway, wow I didn't expect this fic to end up being this long. I wanted it to stop right after Shepard and Conrad got done doing the dirty deed, but hints of a romance ninja'd its way into the fic. I really wasn't sure how to end this; I just hope that I did well and kept Shepard and Conrad in character. It was very hard to write him off as developing a deeper attraction for Shepard while still keeping the creepiness factor alive. I do want some character development for him where he learns to let go of that fanaticism.

UPDATE: Thanks to everyone's feedback, I finally made a sequel! You can find it in my Fan Fiction profile; it's called "Desperate Times". Please be sure to review it; your feedback is highly appreciated!

I'd like to thank everyone for their support in making this story successful!

- Ruby Carmine


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