DISCLAIMER: Mass Effect is the property of Bioware, EA, and people like that. If I made any money off of this, it would certainly be news to me. This is just a little PWOMP (Porn-With-Only-Minimal-Plot); if you're looking for high romance, try "Loyalty" instead.
SPOILERS: Some minor-to-moderate character spoilers for Mass Effect 2, but nothing plot related.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By EldritchSandwich


Jack swung around, pistol in hand and pointed directly at the wide-eyed brunette standing at the edge of the cargo hold. Not that Jack had been legitimately surprised; she'd known who it was as soon as she heard the click of stiletto heels on the stairs down from the engine room and smelled the heady perfume waft across the stale air. Genetically perfect or not, the Cheerleader wasn't exactly subtle.

Miranda merely stood, hands at her sides and hip cocked, while Jack kept the gun level with her throat. "If you're planning on firing that, I'd recommend pointing it away from the atmo line behind me. I doubt either you or Engineer Daniels would be happy with the ensuing repairs."

Jack merely snorted, tossing the gun on top of a crate as she stalked back toward her cot. "You here for a rematch, Illusive Girl?" The ex-con turned back, a gleam in her eye. "Or did Shepard order you to make nice?"

Miranda's sensuous lips curled into a sneer. "Shepard doesn't order me to do anything."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Right, I forgot. Girls like you don't even wait to be asked."

Jack grinned to herself; she could practically hear Miranda's teeth grinding. The curvaceous operative leaned back against the far wall of the hold with a huff. "For your information, you stubborn bitch, I came down here to apologize."

Jack's eyebrow went up. "Excuse me?"

Miranda's eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made the convict squirm. "I know you better than you think."

"Yeah, dossier's real good for avoiding the touchy-feely shit, huh?"

"Genetically engineered by someone with no respect for your humanity? Beaten into a biotic weapon for his own selfish purposes? Escaped out into the galaxy with too much power and no idea how to be a person? It sounds vaguely familiar." Miranda pushed herself off the wall, sashaying toward the suddenly subdued woman. "Which you would know...having read my dossier."

"Yeah, only difference is that you grew up in a fifty-million credit estate with every fucking thing in the galaxy."

"The lab where you were raised wasn't exactly under budget," Miranda reliped archly. "And the difference is that I found a reason to stop feeling sorry for myself, and you haven't." She took a step closer to the convict. "Yet."

Jack suddenly realized she was up against the edge of her cot, and tensed. "The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Let's just say I'm giving you an opportunity to feel something...other than sorry for yourself." Miranda's gloved hand pressed against Jack's tattooed stomach, and the ex-con snatched it back by the wrist.

"You want to play with someone, go see Kelly the Incredible Head-Shrinking Slut. Go see Shepard. Hell, go see 'em both. I'm not in the mood."

"Aren't you?" Miranda purred. "All that energy we were throwing at each other back in my office...you mean to tell me that fight left you completely...satisfied?"

Miranda's free hand pressed against Jack's throat, palm trailing down the tattooed skin as Jack's breathing hitched. "You don't want to do this, Cerberus. I might fucking break you."

"Jack, haven't you heard? Cheerleaders always go for the dangerous type."

With a growl, Jack shoved Miranda against the far wall of the hold. "You want dangerous?" Before Miranda could do more than raise her eyes, Jack's arm was across her throat and the convict's hot breath was in her ear. "Strap the fuck in."

Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but then Jack's tongue was down her throat.

The Cerberus operative moaned, hands reaching up to knead Jack's firm breasts under the tiny leather straps she wore as a top. One of Jack's hands reached up to undo the buckle on her neck, and as soon as the straps fell away Miranda had leaned down to take one ink-covered nipple in her mouth. The feel of the hot tongue swirling over her skin made Jack groan and press her center hard against Miranda's thigh. One of Jack's hands grabbed a fistful of Miranda's long, black hair while the other tore at the collar of her skintight black-and-white jacket. Miranda squeaked in surprise and pushed Jack away, quickly peeling off the jacket to reveal large breasts barely penned in by a gauzy bra and a flat, white stomach with a deep navel. Jack took the opprtunity to pull off the leather straps that were still hanging limply around her chest, and Miranda rushed forward and slipped her now-bare hands under Jack's low-hanging pants to cup the globes of the woman's ass. Like the rest of Jack, they were pure muscle, and Miranda grinned as she yanked the loose pants down over Jack's powerful legs. The convict leaned back on her cot, kicking off her boots and the pants hanging around her ankles, and Miranda smirked; she really did have those tattoos everywhere.

Jack tried to stand back up, and Miranda planted a foot in the center of her chest. When Jack bared her teeth, Miranda's smirk deepened. "You're impetuous, Jack. You need to learn when to act..." Miranda trailed a thin finger down the valley between her plump breasts. "And when to just sit back and watch."

As the convict looked on, Miranda's generous hips began to sway, flat belly undulating as she trailed her hands up her sides, over the lace of her bra, and back down to slip under the edge of her tight leggings. One hand came up to squeeze a breast gently, and she cooed in arousal even as she effortlessly stepped out of her stiletto-heeled boots. She balanced on one foot, the other running slowly up and down her calf, stretching her thighs wide until Jack could see the fabric press against her slit. Jack growled in frustration, moving a hand down to cup her own shaved quim.

Miranda put her foot back down, hands descending under the waist of the leggings, stretching the tight material enough to gently slide it down over her thighs. She began to shimmy again, arms raised over her head as the motion sent her leggings nudging down toward her knees, revealing a matching pair of panties cut low enough that Jack could see a puff of black hair above them.

When Jack looked back up to her face, Miranda winked.

As Miranda stepped out of the pants pooled around her ankles, Jack took the opportunity to attack. Her hand shot out to grab the front of Miranda's panties and the brunette, already off-balance as she undressed, shrieked as she fell toward Jack. The convict yanked Miranda down, her fist tightening around the material until, with a soft snap, the operative's panties ripped away to reveal plump pussy lips and a perfect triangle of black hair.

Miranda landed with her knee pressed against Jack's center, and the heat against her leg made her groan. Before Jack's hands could reach up to her breasts, Miranda's own had unsnapped the filmy bra. The convict pulled the scrap of lace down her arms, high white breasts with blush pink nipples bouncing free. Jack's eyes went wide and she licked her lips; they were even bigger than she'd thought.

Miranda's breath hitched as Jack's lips descended to her nipple, then the brunette shrieked as the ex-con's teeth clamped down. Her callused fingers came up to squeeze the soft flesh of the other breast, and Miranda's hand guided them in ever-smaller circles around her turgid nipple. At the same time, she ground her knee against Jack's snatch, sneering triumphantly as the wiry woman's shaved head swung back and a groan escaped her lips.

Miranda took the opportunity to lean over Jack, hands on either side of her face and tongue jammed down her throat. Their slick tongues wrapped around one another until Jack bit Miranda's lip hard enough to send a spike of liquid pleasure straight down to the operative's pussy.

Miranda pulled back, rubbing her soft breasts down the length of Jack's chest. At the same time, her hands gently guided Jack's thighs apart, stretching open the tight lips of her snatch. Jack grunted. "What do you think you..."

"Jack?" Miranda was now hovering just below Jack's navel, looking up at her with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "For once in your life, would you just shut the fuck up?"

The ex-con opened her mouth for a blistering retort, but what came out instead was a moan. Miranda's nose was suddenly against her clitoris, the point of her tongue pressing against her folds. The Cerberus operative's fingers spread the outer lips, and her tongue pushed into the dripping pink flesh between while the tip of her nose rubbed circles around Jack's clit. The convict sucked in a breath, her grunt of annoyance belied by the copious moisture streaming down Miranda's chin. "Stop playing around and fuck me!"

Miranda shrugged.

She pushed forward, teeth grating against the hood of Jack's clit as her tongue carved into the little bulb. She heard a growl above her, and bit down. The growl turned into a scream, and musky-sweet cum flooded her face. Miranda kept sucking until Jack's fingers threaded into her hair and jerked her up. The convict's tanned face was flushed and beaded with sweat, her lips dark and swollen. Before Miranda could lean in to taste them, Jack's grip tightened, and she howled in pain as the ex-con slammed her back against the cot. Before she could protest, Jack had three fingers at the entrance of her sopping pussy. She thrust in without warning, and Miranda shrieked. Jack sneered, and her other hand came up to wipe her own cum off Miranda's cheeks. When her fingers were covered in the sticky cream, she forced all four into Miranda's gasping mouth.

"Suck, bitch!" Miranda tried to protest, and Jack pushed her fingers deeper until Miranda almost gagged. She forced her tongue up to swirl around the fingers, groaning unconsciously at the taste. In reward, Jack shot her a hungry smile and began to thrust with her other hand, her fingers tickling the rough patch inside Miranda's channel and her thumb scratching against her clit. Miranda felt Jack's pinky rub against her puckered asshole, and she moaned around the convict's fingers.

"You want more?" Miranda nodded feverishly and Jack slipped her fingers from the brunette's motuh with a wet pop only to slap her heaving, exposed breasts. "Say it, bitch!"

"I want more!" Miranda groaned. Jack chuckled.

Miranda's eyes narrowed in confusion as Jack's fingers in her snatch pulled back, but then they went wide as the pinky squeezed in as well. Jack spread her fingers wide, stretching Miranda's inner walls until she thought she would scream. When Jack's thumb left her clit and pushed into her sopping pussy, she did.

Jack's free hand, that had been roughly pawing her breast, fastened around her throat. "Shut up, bitch! Nobody's gonna hear you! Nobody gives a shit about you!"

The convict squeezed her other hand into a fist, and Miranda arched upward, breasts bouncing as Jack pushed farther into her, hard thrusts burying her wrist deep and spreading Miranda's feverish snatch to its limit. Just when Miranda thought she was going to black out, Jack's hands disappeared. The change in pressure, the sudden rush of air, and above all the parting fingernail against the sensitive inside of her pussy made her orgasm with a scream, an explosion of sticky juice coating the insides of her thighs and running down to soak into the cot. Jack merely leaned back against the bulkhead, smirking.

Miranda fixed Jack with a heated glare. "You're going to pay for that, you bitch."

"Miranda?" Jack smirked, knees parting to reveal the glistening, tattooed skin around her snatch. "For once in your life, would you just shut the fuck up?"

When Miranda emerged onto the CIC some four hours later, Kelly Chambers turned to her with a knowing smile. "Operative Lawson. Was your meeting with Jack...productive?"

Miranda smirked at the Normandy's unofficial counselor. "You might have had the right idea, Yeoman. I think we understand each other much better now."

"Good. I'd love to hear all about it."

Miranda's smirk broadened. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure we'd both be glad to give you a blow-by-blow sometime."

As the ship's second-in-command headed back toward the elevator and her office, Kelly turned back to her console, shook her head, and grinned.

The End

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