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In the end, it is the sleep he cannot handle. Not the time they are together, moving with driven intent against each other, but the peaceful time that follows after.
He must earn such a privilege.
So much of his life has been spent alone, with only the bright interlude that was his marriage. After that his solitary state had been resumed as though nothing had ever broken it.
Now, though, he has Shepard. Not that she is his, not in the way he sometimes wishes. In bed, her body rising over him like a wave, she reminds him of a drell. She is long, lean and hard. Her curves are not those of an asari, but of a creature hunting low across a desert. Built for a quickly dealt kill.
It is in the differences that he finds the most pleasure. The friction of scale against skin makes him shiver. The curious nature of her human anatomy dictates that she needs more attention, and he finds that he is happy to give it to her.
There is also the pleasure that can be found in the smallest, most insignificant, of movements against the skin that she wears so brazenly. One flick of his tongue makes her cry his name, and sometimes he thinks he hears her call out the name of her gods, torn from her throat when he dips his tongue along her soft lines.
It is gratifying that he alone can bring the great Commander Shepard, trembling and breathless, to his curved fingered call with such ease.
Shepard knows him for what he is. She holds nothing back, and neither does he. For once it is not the professional side of his life that gives him concern.
It is this time between waking and sleeping. The silence of sleep found at her side. There, in that state, he knows of the danger that his memories present, for it is there that he is most at risk of letting something slip.
In that half state, drell are apt to lapse into memories of a more personal nature. She knows nothing of his past. Not yet, and he has no wish to break the spell they seem to be under.
So he slips from her room, leaving her warm and sated and sleeping, and steals back to his bare cot.
It is there that the message arrives, when he is restless and sleep is far from him. It is there that he learns his son is falling.
---
Even after they find his son, Shepard finds Thane hard to reach. In the darkness of that room, with the young drell bleeding because of her, she finds that Thane has shut himself away once again.
Sometimes she catches a glimpse of it. A trace of a smile on his face when they are talking in his room. A warmth in his voice when he speaks to her. Then, as quickly as it comes, Thane hides himself away.
Though they always end up clinging to each other amidst tangled sheets, her body with his inside, she finds that she does not know him at all.
It was only once his confession rolled out that she found something of him she hadn’t expected. Thane had a family. He once had a wife. When he admits some of this to her the fear ebbs away only for him to place more distance between them the moment she reaches out to close it.
Afterwards she let him retreat to his room, the dark curve of his back a hard warning. She is falling for him. He is pulling further away. Thane measures his life in days, in deeds, and she measures them in foes that need to be dropped.
In between she tells herself that she is filling her precious moments with distractions, but the truth is unmistakeable. The snap of her gun beneath her hands, and the scent of blood in the air as she works, it is all a distraction from the simple fact that she is somehow losing something she has never had.
When she wakes Thane is not there. Though they spend hours together she finds she has nothing left at the end of it. The ache between her legs means nothing. What she wants is him.
She wants him in her life before the sun moves, and the shadows change, and he is lost to her forever.
---
He was almost surprised when she allowed him into her quarters. Earlier on she had looked at him, words on her tongue, and he had turned away.
There was too much within him, fighting for a voice, and he had found himself struck dumb with the sure knowledge of what he wanted to say.
Now he finds her sleepy, and a little confused. This time she says nothing, simply allows him to crawl in bed beside her. The moments are long. Her breath resumes its sleepy depth, and Thane knows this is the point at which he usually leaves.
Instead he stays, and lets sleep take its course.
When he awakes Shepard is buried against him. She has her head tucked under his chin, as she did in the cave, and Thane swims in the snowy memory of her heat amidst the cold. If he speaks she makes no reply.
Instead her body digs deeper, hips flush against his, and Thane finds himself powerless to resist once more.
He traces her curves, and with a flick of his hips he is above her.
Shepard’s lips part to say something, but Thane finds he is not ready for her words. Instead he reaches out, and with careful hands he removes the translator from her wrist before removing his own.
This time when she speaks it is with words unknown. Though he knows the sweet, clear, tone of her voice he has no knowledge of her words.
He replies in kind, and the look on her face as he moves into her goes from questioning to need as his rough voice sounds against her ear.
He slides into her, lets himself settle inside the spread of her legs as she moves her soft skin against his and clasps him firmly with her legs. There is no resisting the tilt of her hips, or the way her mouth opens for his kiss when he leans low across her moistening body.
There is no resisting the tide.
The words come out broken now. He tells her everything he has held back, knowing that although she can feel the thrum of his words, she cannot know what they mean.
He loves her. With every damned fibre of his being. He is doomed to die, as they all are, but his Siha has given him grace that he believed long gone. The word rolls off his tongue as he leans back to watch her arch beneath him with her mouth open, cheeks flushed, and her hands opening over her head. His Siha.
She starts to glow, muscle tightening, and the energy prickles at his skin wherever it is joined to hers.
He loves her. Shepard calls him, her eyes close, and her face is lost as she throws her head back and breaks. It is enough.
Stuttering, Thane can only sink over her as his body answers with a long, final, thrust. He can hear himself babbling, his mouth against her ear as she runs long sweeps of her hands up his trembling back.
Shepard makes another noise, one that he is sure belongs to him, and with effort Thane raises his head to look at the flushed creature so keen to catch his attention.
Her hands move to his face. Her fingers trace every line, thumbs brushing his lips. As she does so a sweet stream of words leave her mouth, and the expression on her face fills Thane with a longing that almost brings him to tears.
She is gentle, her words are soft, and on her face is an open expression of love that needs no explanation. He has been a fool, this he knows, and at that second he wishes he knew exactly what she is telling him.
Later on he can translate. Perfect memory has its benefits. But right now he must know.
Thane kisses her, and then fumbles for the translators. Shepard is smiling as he slips them on, and she sits up in bed with her legs crossed, the cover draped loosely over the warm blush of her shoulders.
“Shepard,” he murmurs, knowing she can understand him now. “There are things I wanted to tell you. Things I was afraid to say. I have a confession to make to you, my Siha, but first, I beg of you…please tell me what you said.”
Shepard sighs. Leans forwards. “You said that word. Over and over. If I tell you, will you tell me what it means?”
“Yes.” Anything. He will tell her anything.
She considers him, and her smile is replaced by that same look she wore. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but you keep running away. I said that I love you. I find myself falling more in love with you every day. You keep leaving me, when all I want to do is hold onto you. I asked you to stay. I asked you to be mine.”
“I am already yours, Siha.”
“So…will you tell me what that means now?” She leans back against the bed, and Thane takes a deep breath.
The memory is vivid. The words come easily.