Georgialeflayart mentioned something about fuck buddies, so I wrote a short fic. I’m angry that I left my next chapter of BDtS at work, so I took it out on Shepard and Kaidan having a bit of hair-pulling sex.

It’s not about love, or lust, or the longing for adrenaline rushes between battles and missions that makes Shepard do it. No. At first, it’s about hair. That perfect, goddamn spit-shined-to-regulation-form cut with never a single salt and pepper strand out of order. For the longest time Shepard tries to ignore it. Runs his hands over his fresh sandpaper buzz cut and vaguely wonders if Joker’s right about the expensive hair gels or biotic styling. And for awhile the “how do you do that?” question is lingering in the back of his throat like an aftertaste every time he talks to Kaidan. But then come the innuendos. The battlefield flirting that finds a way to escape with them on the shuttle back to the Normandy. A mission gone to blood and exhaustion. The empty hanger bay and Kaidan removing his helmet. Suddenly, Shepard’s heart jumps to a breakneck pace and the adrenaline is pumping in his veins again because he notices it. The small, tiny, insignificant curl that falls across Kaidan’s forehead as he turns to the commander and says, “Shepard-”

Shepard’s fists are in Kaidan’s hair. It’s curly. He fucking knew it was curly. Kaidan’s lips are parting under his without a second’s hesitation and his hands are stripping away two sets of armor because Shepard’s hands feel glued to the soft, black mess he’s making. He yanks hard and Kaidan gasps as they slam against the lockers with a resounding clang. Shepard can’t stop pulling, not until Kaidan’s head is thrown back; neck exposed completely. “I want to fuck you so bad,” Shepard growls.

“All you had to do was ask,” Kaidan answers. His voice is pure gravel.

Then it’s not about the hair anymore, and Shepard couldn’t care less about how it’s styled. He knows it can be wrecked just like he’s wrecked with Kaidan on his knees, sucking the commander down as far as he can, while his hands, charged beautiful blue with gentle biotic energy, pump his own dick in time with his lips. It’s still not about the hair when they both come forcefully. Shepard’s first, right into Kaidan’s mouth when the major won’t let him pull away. It’s not about the hair when Kaidan swallows and moans, coming himself with a shudder that soaks his hands.

But it is about the hair again when Shepard cracks his eyes open and peers down at the beautiful mess he’s made of flushed, dark skin and curls. “That’s a good look on you,” he murmurs.

“I knew you wanted to see it,” Kaidan answers.