Work Text:
One thing Shepard liked about Aria was that she hated asking for help. She got by so capably within her own means that she seldom reached out, and when she did, there always had to be something in it for the other party. Aria paid her debts, Shepard respected that.
She had been putting off the message received over a week ago. There was a Reaper invasion going on and Shepard was fresh out of jail: no crew, no supplies and a wayward Ardat-Yakshi on the loose to hunt down. Aria could wait. If it was worth it to her, she would wait.
She was on Mars after linking up with Liara and a brief incursion with Chief Alenko when an urgent message came through on her comms.
Omega. Now.
The previous message had been just as sparse, and the curtness of this one made Shepard want to wait her out a little longer. If Aria wanted her that badly, she would have to work a little harder.
Shepard was on the Citadel, about to place her hands on a new set of pistols when the clerk, startled, ducked down under the counter. Something blunt and heavy hit Shepard in the neck and her vision blurred before she slumped to the floor, blacking out. She came to, her hands cuffed, a gag forced in her mouth and a bag over her aching head.
“The great Commander finally decided to join us,” a Batarian jeered somewhere above her. Shepard tried to move, the floor she was curled up on was vibrating. They were moving.
The movement stopped shortly after and the bag was torn from her head. A flash of light blinded her as she was yanked to her knees and dragged, thrashing, up a flight of stairs. Shepard’s kneecap let out a crunch as she was flung forward onto her front. She could smell that familiar air of rot and rust. Omega.
She blinked into light as Anto, one of Aria’s Batarian lackeys stood over her, a smugness in his posture as he raised a gun to Shepard’s head, goading her to kneel. Behind him was Aria T’Loak, legs crossed and laid back on her throne as she always was.
“You seem to be enjoying the restraints, Shepard,” she clicked her tongue, eyes flashing dangerously, “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”
“You were on my list, Aria,” Shepard spat on the ground, her mouth bloody, “just near the bottom.”
“Likely you missed some details on your ride over, let me illustrate the urgency of our situation.” Aria clicked her fingers and Anto grabbed Shepard’s injured shoulder, hoisting her up. Shepard dragged her feet, making herself as heavy as possible as Anto shoved her up against the window overlooking Afterlife, below. The normally bustling club was almost empty. The bar had been smashed up, there were tables kicked over, scorch marks on the soft furnishings and broken glass all over the floor.
“Carnage,” Aria said softly, “chaos, and not of my doing. Did you know someone has been spreading a disease called ‘democracy’ amongst the denizens of Omega?” Shepard swallowed a mouthful of blood, her lip was probably busted but at least she still had all her teeth.
“What’s next, an election on Omega?” Shepard snorted, stumbling as Anto let her go and she quickly found her footing.
“My fears exactly.” Aria said with all seriousness. She patted her knee and waited expectantly. Shepard stood unwavering until Anto’s gun met the side of her head. Shepard shuffled over to Aria, staring down at the Asari who uncrossed her knees elegantly. But instead of obediently sitting down in her lap, Shepard climbed onto her, sitting astride like she was mounting a saddle. Aria smirked and closed her eyes briefly, tutting. Shepard allowed the blood to run down her face. If Aria was going to toy with her, she’d be a messy plaything.
“There’s a Salarian causing trouble in the wards, preaching about free speech and voters rights. His name is Ish.”
Shepard thought back but the name didn’t ring any bells.
“Why don’t you kill him?” She shrugged and Aria sighed.
“We tried that. Unfortunately he seems to have developed a network of his own that undermines my business, and he doesn’t make many public appearances, having his friends doing the dirty work.”
“Sounds like somebody else I know,” Shepard curled her lip flashing a few bloodied teeth. Aria grabbed her neck, biotics flashing across her knuckles and pulled Shepard’s face towards her.
“You’re going to be my puppet,” Aria said darkly, “The decorated Spectre, people won’t be able to resist voting for you, Shepard.”
Shepard couldn’t decide if kissing Aria, or spitting in her face would piss her off more. Her eyes were so blue up close. Aria hesitated before throwing Shepard off her. The soldier clattered to the floor and laid there for a moment, rubbing it in.
“Get her cleaned up,” Aria barked and Shepard heard her stand and walk away.
***
Shepard strode up and down in one of the VIP rooms under Afterlife, her face caked in medigel, trying to get a signal on her comms. Aria had blocked her from the network but she hadn’t confiscated her omnitool. She could still get a message to Liara.
She weighed up the pros and cons of deserting Omega. Aria’s help in the war effort would be useful. Additionally it would be problematic if Aria was going to interfere in their mission by constantly kidnapping her. Liara was her saving grace, her shadow broker links doing their part to assure that Liara knew where she was at all times. She could trust Liara to keep things rolling while Shepard dealt with Aria.
A file on the Salarian—Ish, had been provided to cover some bases. Shepard recognised him when she saw the photo, they’d had a brief run in while she was travelling with Jacob a while back, but Shepard hadn’t paid him much mind. This insurrection of his must have been stewing in the background. Maybe if she’d dealt with him at the time she could have avoided this, but no doubt there would have been other issues that cropped up on Omega as a result.
“They’re ready for you,” Anto had arrived to collect her. Shepard rolled her bad shoulder and bumped it into him intentionally on her way past as she exited the room.
Aria had arranged a public discussion for the pre-election. Everything seemed very well organised, if one were to ignore the obvious signs of civil war from the fire damage and collapsed buildings all around. Shepard mused Aria must have been busy with Plan A in the time she had been ignoring her calls.
The Asari herself was waiting, arms crossed in the centre of a raised platform with a holoscreen high in the air above them. As Shepard was brought out of the transport car cheers rang through the space. Shepard gave her customary wave and plastered-on smile that she normally reserved for Council meetings. Her opponent, Ish, stood on the opposite side of the platform. For a moment Shepard did a double-take, his markings looked very different to his photograph.
“That’s a stand-in,” Aria said leaning in to Shepard, “one of Ish’s subordinates.”
“And yet, you came in person,”
“Unlike my opponent, I’m not afraid of assassination.” She nodded and Shepard shared her look. Aria was playing to her people in the usual way. The inhabitants of Omega were attracted to confidence and Shepard could say the same.
“You are afraid of looking like a tyrant, however,” Shepard added, approaching the podium where Aria had laid out notes for her speech. She took a brief glance and disregarded it. The people had come for a taste of Commander Shepard, and she would give it to them.
“This human does not have Omega’s best interests in mind,” Ish’s Salarian stand-in spoke eloquently as he addressed the crowd. “I propose a council of government where decisions for the greater good of Omega are decided upon by committee, and not by this despot who rules over us with threat and fear.” He threw his arm out at Aria who glared into the crowd, unflinching. Shepard chuckled at her restraint.
“My opponent is right,” Shepard said, and she noticed Aria’s concentration fractured as she glanced in Shepard’s direction. “Omega needs clear direction, to bring us into this new age. The Reapers are almost here and we need to be strong as a community, to stand together.” Shepard received some cheers, although there was some mumbling at mention of the Reapers. “If you vote for me, I’ll have full Spectre authority to organise the best defenses for Omega. You’ll have the opportunity to fund protections for your homes and families and I promise to personally oversee rebuilding when the war is over and we have won.” The crowd, eager to lap from Shepard’s palm, cheered.
“If you don’t make it back from your suicide mission, you’ll never have to make good on those promises. Good call, Shepard.” Aria praised her later in her private dressing room. Shepard had been in Aria’s room only a couple times before—her bed only once. She waited to be dismissed but Aria lingered, pouring herself a drink, turning the glass in her hand. “If you perform well, you might be deserving of a reward.”
“Your army for the fight against the Reapers,” Shepard said smoothly, “you owe me.”
“That I do,” she turned on her heel and walked towards Shepard. Shepard was taller, but not by much, and Aria never let herself seem small. Shepard did all she could to hold herself back from seizing the Asari’s waist and throwing her onto the bed.
“I’ll think of something,” Aria inclined her head, “until then. Behave yourself.”
***
A response had come through from Liara, everything was handled back on the Normandy. Shepard was under constant watch. Even in her downtime wandering around the merchant quarter, she felt the eyes of the Vorcha lingering on her. How many of them were Aria’s agents, she couldn’t tell. Safe to assume all of them.
Shepard approached the counter of a Salarian salesman who recognised Shepard on sight.
“Nice to see you running for office Commander, your presence alone will do wonders for Omega’s economy, I’m sure.” He said brightly, but Shepard clocked his left hand snaking under the counter.
“I’ll do my best for Omega,” Shepard said noncommittally, already feeling the pressure surrounding her. She stepped back to find herself barred by armed figures on each side. Two Batarians, a Vorcha and a Salarian— Ish.
“Let’s have a chat, shall we Commander?” Ish said as the Vorcha closed in to rest the barrel of a gun in the square of her back.
They took her to a back room behind the shop fronts that doubled for storage facilities and offices. They didn’t rough her up, at least. Shepard predicted they wanted minimal evidence to make it back to Aria, but the chair they’d tied her to was small and light, probably aluminium. They hadn’t thought that part through.
“Drop out of the election,” Ish told Shepard, his arms folded leaning back on his heel. He was the only one without a weapon.
Shepard laughed, “I’d be feeling pretty cocky if I had a bunch of cronies holding guns to my unarmed opponent’s head,” she said, letting the amusement play on her face, “why don’t you untie me, Ish. We’ll see how far you get.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Commander Shepard.” Ish spoke firmly, bottom lids on his wide eyes raised into a leer. “My plan is years in the making. Aria T’Loak has been weakened by my attacks over the previous weeks. I’m not going to allow you to waltz in here and ruin everything.”
“My bad,” Shepard snorted but Ish huffed out his chest and started pacing.
“Do you really think that Aria knows what’s best for Omega?” He asked and Shepard noted that tone in his voice, the exhaustion. “I’m trying to build a new world, run by its people. Not this Asari who allows the rest of us to languish in squalor.”
“Don’t try me with that,” Shepard groaned, “you’re no better than Aria. She’s just more competent at playing dirty. I’m surprised you managed to make a dent on her at all.”
Ish straightened up and the Batarians on either of his sides gripped their rifles tighter.
“I’m an information broker,” Ish smiled smugly, “Dirty is my clan name. It’s easier to topple a house of cards from the inside, after all.” He took a step back, “I am disappointed that we weren’t able to come to an agreement.” He gestured to his goons with a flick of his hand, “Kill her.”
Shepard was on her feet in a second. The chair she was tied to kept her in a crouched position, but made her harder to hit as she barrelled into the Batarian by the door. He let out a cry and dropped his pistol but Shepard was already toppling sideways into the Vorcha on her left. She had a vague idea of where he stood, but the point was to hit him hard enough that it didn’t matter where her aim landed. The Vorcha crashed into the wall, pinned by Shepard’s shoulder and the hard edge of the chair. It didn’t make a very sturdy blunt weapon, but the metal legs were perfect for impaling.
She spun around and leapt, smacking Ish across the face with the chair as he clattered to the floor. The crashing had loosened Shepard’s restraints and she was able to jiggle out of her bondage before the three assailants could steady themselves. Ish needed to up his protection budget.
She spotted the dropped pistol on the floor but decided in that instant to make for the door instead, Aria would likely not approve if her candidate went around killing off the opposition. She barrelled into the other Batarian who unlocked the door at the sound of the commotion and fled past him. Ish screamed at his guards to stop her as she sprinted for Afterlife.
***
“There’s a mole,” Shepard told Aria, sipping some alien drink that they still had on tap at Afterlife. Much of the bar’s alcohol had been looted during the riots, but there were still some interesting Elcor beverages to be sampled that weren’t toxic to humans.
Aria was shaking her head, “I would know if there was a mole,” she said firmly, her own glass of sparkling liquid untouched. “Can’t believe you got yourself kidnapped. What were you doing wandering around without an escort?”
“You keep me locked up, what do you expect,” Shepard’s eyes darkened, “maybe you should honour your guest with better entertainment.”
Aria ignored her, checking the datapad on the bar. She had hundreds and hundreds of messages in her inbox. Shepard wondered how she managed to keep on top of everything.
***
Shepard started following Aria’s men around. At first they were abrupt and gruff but after Shepard had spent some time on Omega they warmed to her. They were mostly Batarian and Turian, ones who had left their homes searching for employment and were happy to do any job: “It’s better than being in jail,” one Turian had told her.
She was hanging around the port, wondering if any of Morinth’s pseudonyms would appear on the docking permits list when she spotted Anto looking shifty. Shepard hadn’t seen him outside of Afterlife often. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who had many hobbies, but there was an anxiousness in his shoulders. Shepard hid behind a pillar to watch him as he spoke to a VI at the docks before making off at a pace to the lower wards. Shepard began the pursuit.
Anto led her, unbeknownst to him, to a small enclave of trading rooms where tight groups were conversing quietly. Something like this on the Citadel would have been far more secluded, but only on Omega was the black market so openly apparent that the only thing that was missing was a banner welcoming bootleggers and traffickers.
She spotted two Hanar in a corner beside some crates, their fluorescent jellied skin standing out amongst the other armoured figures. To her surprise, Anto approached them and nodded his head in a slight bow. She couldn’t get close enough to hear their conversations, but she watched from afar as Anto was invited to check the crates that were stacked behind the Hanar. It was hard to read his expression but his body language seemed satisfied. He made a motion with his wrist and presumably transferred funds to the Hanar who also dipped its head appreciatively.
Shepard ambushed him on his way up the stairs.
“Little side hustle?” she smirked, blocking his way with her body, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. Anto started, but quickly regained his composure.
“It’s nothing,” he said, “and it’s none of your business.”
Shepard took a few steps down, but not enough that she couldn’t still tower over him.
“Anything that potentially disrupts Aria’s election is my business,” she said smoothly, “and the quicker I deal with her mole, the faster I can get the fuck off of this rock.”
Anto’s eye twitched. Shepard took another step down and he stepped back.
“Look it’s not what you think, I’m not working for Ish.” he stuttered and a shameful look came over his many eyes. “Like you said, it’s a side gig. I help move packages and I have some wealthy Hanar sponsors at the moment. It’s completely separate from Ish's organisation I swear. Please don’t tell Aria.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow, “what’s so bad about a little extra credits that you wouldn’t want Aria to find out?”
Anto sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he avoided eye contact. “Aria doesn’t like us having second or third jobs, says it fractures our focus.” Shepard could see the logic there. “Plus she’d never let me live it down.”
Shepard’s eyes widened as Anto produced a small package from his back pocket.
“Think of this as a bribe,” he said jokingly, “please keep this between us. I have a kid to feed.”
Shepard let him go, taking the parcel. Curiosity getting ahead of her, she opened it right there in the stairwell. Inside was a thick, soft appendage. It looked like some kind of strap on, but it was bright Hanar pink and soft and pliable to the touch. Anto might still be the mole, but she doubted he would have admitted to smuggling Hanar aphrodisiacs if he weren’t trying his best to save face.
“Maybe I should report you to the Council,” a voice came from behind her. Shepard turned on her heel and fell immediately in shadow. A hooded figure loomed over her, a voice she didn’t recognise. “‘ Decorated war hero, Commander Shepard. Caught red handed in the act of organ trafficking ’.” The figure took a step down, her angular face coming into the light. Shepard tucked the box away and folded her arms.
“Sounds like a convenient way to take me out of the running,” Shepard baited.
“I intend to take you out one way or another,” she said, “your snooping around has won you nothing, Commander. You should leave Omega, before I make you.”
Shepard studied her worn clothing, her strong gait and stance. She hadn’t come across a female Turian in some time. Usually they were strong and graceful, but this one looked like a scrapper. Feisty, dangerous.
“Aria owes me,” Shepard said righteously, “and I don’t intend to leave before she makes good on our agreement.”
The Turian grabbed her then. Shepard felt her feet leave the floor as she was wrenched over the stairs.
“Leave now and let Aria’s tyrannical reign fall into ruin.”
Shepard bit back, “I don’t give a shit who runs Omega.”
***
It was becoming a bit of a habit, for Shepard to be dragged, kicking and screaming into all sorts of drama going on around Omega. Her jaw hit the ground floor of Afterlife as the Turian cast her aside, calling out for Aria to make herself known. Aria eventually appeared at the top of the stairs to her usual haunt as Shepard got to her knees. The Turian seemed unarmed but she wondered if Aria would take the risk.
“Nyreen, nice to see that you aren’t dead,” Aria mused. She waved for her guards to stand down as she locked eyes with the intruder. “Naturally, you are the cause of my headache.”
“Withdraw from the election, Aria,” Nyreen ordered, “this has gone on long enough.”
“Oh actually, I think it can go a little while longer.” Aria walked down to their level. She never once looked at Shepard, on her knees at Nyreen’s feet. “Your campaign against me is breaking, you’re getting desperate. That’s why you’re here.” Shepard tried to stand but Nyreen shoved her head down again.
“If you ran for election yourself, Omega’s people wouldn’t vote for you and you know it.” Nyreen hissed, “you’re afraid of confidently walking into defeat and being forced to accept the result.”
“You can’t talk to Aria like that,” Shepard barked, but Aria shot her a deadly look.
“Quiet Shepard, the adults are talking.”
Shepard huffed, but Aria’s body language closed. There was history here and it rubbed her the wrong way. Shepard held in the desire to scream at Aria–shoot her, kill her and be done with it. The idea that this Turian had something that Aria respected, that she held above Shepard.
“And if I gave an acceptance speech to Omega and you shot me dead in the process, there would be anarchy,” Aria said to Nyreen gently, “martyr me and Omega will never be yours, Nyreen.”
“I don’t want to own Omega. I’m not like you.” Nyreen growled, holding herself back from lunging directly at Aria.
“You’re right,” Aria said, “you’re nothing like me. You wouldn’t attack anyone unarmed.”
Aria’s guards understood the signal and began firing. Shepard dived to the floor, arms over her head as bullets ricocheted off the ground. Nyreen jumped, higher than any human could have and leapt onto the upper balcony, disappearing in less than a moment. The gunfire stopped and Aria tsked, her boots clicking on the floor in the sudden silence.
“Bit excessive for warning shots,” Shepard said, getting to her feet. But Aria ignored her and returned to the stairs, ordering her cronies to sweep the surrounding area for the Turian.
***
Shepard waited, watching Aria settle herself on her couch. Another day, another hostage situation. Shepard crossed her arms expectantly.
“I wasn’t worried,” if that’s what you’re wondering,” Aria said, taking a sip of her tall blue drink, “I know you can handle yourself.”
“Do you think Nyreen’s going to be a problem?” Shepard sighed, how much longer was she going to be stuck there.
“Nyreen being the head of the operation was a surprise, I’ll admit that.” Aria said, her eyes grazing over a datapad, “but she’s nothing I can’t handle. Now that we know who we’re fighting it should be easier to round out this tumultuous period in our favour.”
The word ‘our’ lingered in the air between them.
Shepard strode over to Aria, castling the datapad aside as she pressed her hands into the soft pleather of the coach on either side of Aria’s head. The Asari didn’t flinch as Shepard leaned in to kiss her but before their lips met Aria shoved her back.
“I suppose you’ve suffered plenty for my cause,” Aria said absently, setting her drink safely down on the floor. She leaned back into the couch and called Shepard closer by curling her index finger. Shepard mounted her, as she had before, barely concealed eagerness held in the way she bit down on her bottom lip.
Aria unzipped Shepard’s hoodie to her chest and in one motion whipped the neckline down over Shepard’s bare shoulders. The zip held strong and the constriction made her modest breasts swell slightly. She could get out of the restraint easily, but she waited to see where Aria was going with this.
In one motion, Aria toppled Shepard sideways and she fell into the couch, arms held tight to her sides by the overshirt, the zip digging sharply into her skin. Shepard’s hands tried to touch Aria as she began removing Shepard’s trousers, hooking them to her knees, then her ankles, but Aria brushed her off.
“You’ve been good, Commander,” she uttered, brushing up Shepard’s undershirt and lowering her head to grace her lips over Shepard’s toned stomach. Shepard arched into her.
As Aria’s head lowered between Shepard’s legs, her tongue traced over Shepard’s clit before entering her. Shepard hadn’t realised how excited she already was. It took Aria no time at all to get her hot and soaking. Aria barely used her hands, focusing on the rhythm of pushing her tongue into Shepard before pulling out and rubbing her clit in circles, gently teasing with the edges of her teeth. Shepard moaned in admiration, she had wanted this for so long. Her dry spell in jail only to be followed up with being immediately forced back into her mission. She longed for a break, a release.
“Fuck me,” Shepard begged, her fingers caressing as best she could the little of Aria’s wrist she could reach. Her voice was small, pinched. Aria looked up from her work, eyes flashing.
“You’re pathetic,” she said smiling, “at least you didn’t say please ,”
Aria positioned herself with Shepard’s ass resting on her hips. She unzipped her leathers and began massaging her own clit. Shepard watched Aria’s face as she allowed herself to become lost in the pleasure. Aria looked in her element, lording it over the human Spectre, an aching mess in her lap.
Shepard’s loins burned. She watched as Aria’s clit swelled, the fleshy blue tissue constricting until it grew to a size that filled Aria’s hand. The head of her clit was covered in a viscous fluid. Aria didn’t give any warning before she entered Shepard. Shepard moaned as Aria’s clit hit the walls inside of her, stroking against her, filling her. Aria thumbed Shepard’s own clit in time with her thrusts. She was slow to begin with, but it made Shepard squirm all the more. She wanted faster, harder, but she knew Aria was holding back intentionally. Shepard never got what she wanted out of Aria by asking nicely.
She tried again to touch her, but the moment her fingers made contact with Aria’s thigh the Asari thrust into her hard. Shepard gave a moan of pained pleasure and it felt so good the thought crossed her mind to try again. She ground herself on Aria’s hips, hoping to coax her into losing herself and give up.
Aria never made an attempt to do anything but hold Shepard’s hips firmly as she teased her. She wasn’t even working up a sweat, still wearing her tight jacket. Shepard wondered what it would look like on the floor, whether Aria had any scars across her torso or chest. Aria had all but ignored the scars on Shepard’s hips and thighs, things which past lovers had lingered on with interest. She and Aria were the same, but the Asari would take some convincing still.
Shepard tightened on Aria’s clit as Aria hit her sweet spot and for a moment Aria’s eyes closed, her lips opening. Shepard’s face and chest flushed with heat and she squeezed again, but failed to achieve the same result.
“You’re not going to make me come, Shepard.” Aria told her directly, but there was a hint of daring in her smile. Aria angled her hips upwards and pressed herself into Shepard, licking her finger and thumb before tweezing Shepard’s clit between them. Shepard knocked her head back in pleasure, holding onto the urge to cry out. She wasn’t going to last. Fuck this Asari.
Aria quickened her pace, her thrusts coming in waves now. Shepard was close to the edge and the double sensation from inside and out was overwhelming. The heat from all over made her clothes tight from slick perspiration that covered her body. Shepard heard Aria’s breath quicken, and Aria’s grip tightening on her thighs was enough to shove her over. Shepard fell into erupted bliss that radiated outwards as Aria continued to rail her despite how her body quaked all over.
By the time they had finished Shepard was exhausted. Aria had brought her to climax four times, and without breaking a sweat. Shepard lay breathing hard on the couch, her trousers cast aside, naked from the waist down as she stared up at the ceiling, moisture drying on her lips as she came back to her senses. She wondered if Aria was secretly an Ardat-Yakshi and she now had a brain haemorrhage.
“The early votes are in, by the way,” Aria said, all business as she stood surveying the polls on her datapad. She was zipped up again and looked no worse for wear from their encounter.
Shepard marvelled at her. “Are we winning?”
“At the latest count, we’re leading by 76% of the vote,” Aria didn’t smile at the data, she looked like she barely cared.
“Any sign of Nyreen?”
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Aria brushed off, “Nyreen will make her play when she’s ready. If she’s got any sense she’ll go back into hiding.”
“Are you going to force me to attend the inauguration ceremony or am I free to go?” Shepard recalled dreamily the softness of her bed on the Normandy and hoped that Liara had remembered to feed her fish.
“I’ll fake some footage using your image,” Aria said, “you're off the hook.”
Shepard breathed a sigh of relief. After a strong coffee on the Normandy, her next task would be fabricating a story that the Council would swallow.