One week after return to JAG
Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station
2330 Local

I lie awake, staring at my ceiling. It’s a nice ceiling, as ceilings go. I should know, I did the finish work myself. But I’m not interested in the ceiling, as nice as it is, I’m thinking about Mac.

Just so you know, this is not an unusual occurrence. I have spent many nights thinking about her, usually in context with this room. Most of the ideas have been sexual in nature, occasionally it’s been worry, but more recently its just been wondering what the hell is going on.

Or rather, what’s NOT going on. Since the Jagathon last year, we’ve been on a path of steadily renewed friendship. The aftermath of Brumby’s abandonment and Renee’s departure finally behind us, for which I thank God every day. There were a few months there I thought I’d lost her for good. Don’t take me wrong, it’s not all my fault, but honesty compels me to admit that a big part of it is.

After our return from Afghanistan and Bud’s injury, we’d been so…close. Dinners, movies, running together, joking around, it was all coming back. I’d been ecstatic, and fully preparing myself to move to the next step whenever the opportunity presented itself.

I turn on my side and sigh, watching the clock change from 11:56 to 11:57.

But in the last week, something is different. It’s difficult to put my finger exactly on what it is. She still jokes with me and we had dinner together twice this week. She’s just…different…almost guarded, and I can’t figure out why. Although the situation is not nearly as bad, it’s almost like when she came back from the Guadalcanal and I made that stupid statement to Sturgis about her ex’s.

Oh shit! In an almost blinding flash of clarity, I realize when all this started. It was right after that conversation in the hanger. Surely she couldn’t think…

I sit up, wanting to kick myself a hundred different ways. I know Mac; I know her insecurities and her vulnerabilities, and knowing all that, still made that asinine remark about Farrow. I didn’t really mean it, at least not in a judgmental or bad way; it certainly wasn’t intended to hurt her. I just wanted her to see that everyone makes mistakes, that we are all human.

Unfortunately I forgot her propensity for taking things personally. Damn it. She’s protecting herself…from ME. God damn it, am I never going to learn?

Mac has come so far, and her image is that of the perfect Marine officer. Yet underneath all that strength and determination is a woman who is constantly striving for perfection to make up for her past, a past that is not all her fault and a past that she has overcome. Most of the time I think she feels she has overcome it, but there is that seed of susceptibility that comes out when someone criticizes her. Sometimes she lashes out defensively, but she has been known to retreat behind a professional façade when faced with problems she doesn’t want to deal with. That’s what she’s doing now.

I remember what she was like after her Article 32 and Admiral’s mast. We talked and joked every day, but never about anything personal. It was as if she was all blocked off and marked “Classified.”

I jump to my feet, pull on some jeans and a shirt, and scramble for my shoes. I need to talk to her. Now. If I know my Mac, and I do, she’s not sleeping anyway.

Sarah Mackenzie’s Apartment
Georgetown
1245 Local

I flip idly through the channels, not really looking at television. I have no interest in it. There’s one thing, and only one thing on my mind. I stop on Conan O’Brien who has some singer I never heard of on. It’ll do. I push the mute button so I don’t have to listen to annoying chatter while I torture myself.

Harm. Damn him. That is, of course, the one thing on my mind. I lie back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. It looks like a nice ceiling, but I really don’t care.

Why do I let him get to me this way? Knowing Harm, he probably has picked up on the fact that I’m being guarded with him, but has no idea why. The man can be so incredibly brilliant, and at the same time, so incredibly…stupid.

The rational part of me knows I’m being oversensitive and unreasonable. Harm would never say anything to hurt me on purpose. Even that cutting remark he made to Sturgis was not meant for me to hear, and I know he wanted to cut out his tongue after he said it.

I sigh, and flip on my side to stare unseeingly at the television. Why does everything have to be so complicated with him? I know, I know…it’s better now then it was a year ago. A year ago we could barely even talk to each other, but we got past all that. OK, so it was mostly my fault, but it was partly his too. But since the Jagathon, and Bud’s injury, we’ve been practically inseparable.

I like to think we were building to something more, something deeper, and maybe we were. If only I could shut that little voice inside me up. The one that keeps telling me he doesn’t really love me, at least not that way. If he did, he wouldn’t think you slept your way into law school. He’d have more respect for you than that. And the past mistakes you’ve made wouldn’t be rubbed in your face.

But, my saner, more secure side argues, he’s seen you at your worst, and still been your friend. In spite of everything, he never stopped being that. And he has always defended you, believed in you, even when he didn’t know what was going on. Remember the trial for murder?

Yeah, he’s your friend. And that’s all he wants to be. You’ve been fooling yourself he wants more, you know you have.

No, he does want more. He’s just waiting for the right time, till we’re both stable and over all the crap.

Sure, he is.

I sit up abruptly. “STOP IT!” I hate having to talk to myself this way, but if I don’t stop it I’ll drive myself crazy. And it’s a short trip.

That’s it. I have to talk to him, to clear the air. Even if I’ve been fooling myself, and he just wants to be friends, at least I’ll know for sure. I start to get up to get dressed when I realize what time it is. It’s too late to talk to him now.

A knock at the door surprises me. Walking over to it, I look out the peephole and discover that Harm is out there. All my good intentions of talking to him go out the window as fear freezes my heart.

There’s another knock, and I finally pull myself together enough to open the door. “Harm, is something wrong?”

He looks so ill at ease; it reminds me of the time he came to talk to me on the Guadalcanal and I shut him down. Another not so bright move on my part.

“Uh…no…not exactly. Listen, can I…uh…talk to you?” His eyes look everywhere, except of course, at me.

My stomach clenches in a knot and the clearing of the air that I wanted is apparently going to come. I’m just not sure at all I’m ready for it.

Harm’s POV

The light was on when I pulled in, but it took her a few minutes to get to the door. She doesn’t look like she was asleep though. Suddenly I feel tongue-tied, a familiar feeling when I face this woman.

She looks beautiful, dressed in some deep midnight blue silk pajamas. Something primal stirs in me when I see her like this, and I’m instantly even more nervous. I barely hear her when she asks me if something is wrong, and I feel so tongue-tied I can barely get a word out.

Forcing myself to speak is not easy, but I manage to get the question out with a few stutters. “Uh…no…not exactly. Listen, can I…uh…talk to you?” I twirl my keys and keep my eyes averted from her, certain that if I look at her again I’ll turn to stone and not be able to say a word.

Sounding none to pleased, she answers my question. “Sure.” Opening the door, she gestures me in. “Do you want some coffee or something?”

I remember another time I came to talk to her in the middle of the night, a different kind of problem was on my mind then. “Some water would be nice.” The coffee really was bad that night; it was made at “marine” strength.

She gives a short nod, obviously uncomfortable. God I hate it when we’re like this. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” She heads off to the kitchen while I take my usual place on her sofa, crossing and recrossing my legs because I’m so freaking nervous.

Finally she’s back, handing me a glass of ice water. She sits on the sofa, but not really next to me. She’s at the very end, and now displaying that cool demeanor that means she’s hiding her feelings. “So what’s up?”

I had rehearsed a dozen different ways to start this on the way over, and of course, now I can’t think of a single one of them. I can’t believe I make my living as a lawyer. You’d think I could remember a few simple lines of a speech.

The big brown eyes reveal nothing as she watches me fidget, calmly waiting for me to start. I can’t stand it, so I get up and walk to the fireplace. “Mac,” I say, “You’ve been far away from me lately, and I don’t like it.” Great start, I think to myself. It’s all about me. I heave a heavy sigh before I can stop myself. “I know it’s probably my fault, I’m not blaming you. I just want to work it out.”

And I really do. I’m tired of this dance, as she once put it. I hate it when we fight, I hate the distance, the separation, and most of all the fear that this will be it, that we won’t get it right, ever.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, then slowly brings her feet up on the sofa to curl her arms around her knees. I note the defensive position, and feel sad. I never want to hurt her and yet it’s all I seem to do.

“I…” Her voice falters, and I can see her gather herself together as if fortifying herself for a blow. “I’m sorry. I guess I just need some space sometimes. It’s nothing, really.” She looks down at her feet as she gives me the excuses.

I’m surprised at how well I understand her. Mac can handle any confrontation in a professional capacity, whether it’s in a courtroom or in a war zone. Hell, she can probably handle a bar fight. I should know, she’s fought with me enough in the courtroom and been at my side in the war zone. I haven’t seen her in a bar fight yet though. I choke back a smile at the thought of it.

It’s confrontation about personal issues that Mac avoids like the plague. I should know that too. She certainly avoided me after Mic left, and she avoided the whole discussion of ‘us’ later. She never even called me on that stupidass remark I made to Sturgis.

I decide to just go straight to the heart of the matter instead of beating around the bush, waiting for her to open up. We could be here all night if I do that. “Mac,” I say again. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I leave the fireplace and sit beside her, attempting to see into the eyes that refuse to meet mine. “It took me a while, but I figured out why you are upset.”

Abruptly she puts her feet down and twists her hands together in her lap. “Who says I’m upset?”

“It’s me, Mac…Harm. I know you, and I know when you’re upset.” I risk a smile, hoping to see one back. “I know because I’ve upset you enough.”

There’s a flash of her humor and a quick smile back to me. “I’ve gotten use to it, Flyboy.”

My own smile fades, because that statement is probably true. “All I meant is that we all make mistakes, do things we regret. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized just how bad it sounded when I said it.”

I’m finally breaking through, because she doesn’t pretend to misunderstand this time. Instead she looks me straight in the eyes. “Maybe it was a subconscious thing, Harm. That is what you really think. That I slept my way into law school. Hell, for all I know you think I make a habit of sleeping with my CO’s.” The anger and hurt in her voice takes me aback. Whoa, I really touched on a nerve with that statement.

“I’ve never given you any reason to think that, Mac.” I quickly dismiss the idea I once had about the Admiral and her. It was a fleeting idea, and long ago. “I’ve always respected your abilities as a lawyer and never thought you slept your way to the top.” I try to keep my tone reasonable; reacting in anger isn’t going to help the situation.

But she has no qualms about it. Apparently once she decides to confront personal issues, she goes all the way. She continues, her voice getting angrier with each word. “Like I said, maybe it was subconscious. Maybe that’s part of the reason you can’t let go with me.”

I stare at her in surprise, never expecting the conversation to take this turn.

Mac’s POV

Oh God, did I just say that? This is a big part of the reason I hate to fight and argue. I can’t seem to control my mouth; once something is in my head it’s out there before I can stop it. It’s why I won’t get angry in court; I’ve got to stay in control.

He’s staring at me with that deer caught in the headlights look, just like he did on the Guadalcanal. I know I was mean to him then, but I just couldn’t deal with him. I mean, he makes this grand gesture, following me out there, but he was still with Renee! What did he think I was going to do? Fall into his arms in gratitude? God, he makes me mad!

I know I’m in trouble when his eyes narrow and he gives me “that” look, the one that says he’s about to go for the kill. Little does he know I’m finally mad enough to take whatever he dishes out.

“Wait a minute, THAT’S what this whole thing is about? You don’t think I can let go?” His tone is incredulous and righteous at the same time, quite an amazing feat.

I jump to my feet, ready to do battle. “No, that’s NOT what this is about! What THIS is about is you and what you think about me! I thought you respected me! I thought even if you didn’t…” I manage to change course midstream, thank God. “I thought that even with all the problems we’ve had that you understood me, who I am on the most fundamental level. That remark just lumped me in with a bunch of brainless bimbos who use their crotch to get ahead!” I am horrified by the things coming out of my mouth, but I am powerless to stop them, it just keeps flowing. “Maybe I should have been a lap dancer like Juanita Wressler suggested!”

Fortunately for me he seems to have missed my earlier slip. “What the hell are you talking about? It was one ill-advised remark in all the years we’ve been together. I’ve ALWAYS treated you with respect.” The fury in his voice becomes more pronounced, and he jumps up to yell at me, getting right in my face. “You’re just mad because I haven’t declared my undying love for you. And instead of looking at the real issues, you just seize on any stupid remark I make and play psychiatrist!”

I’m not physically intimidated by Harm. Whatever else he is; he is not the kind of person to resort to physical violence. So I don’t back away, I get right back in his face. “I don’t need you to declare your undying love for me, I’ve gone 6 years without it, and I’m sure I can continue on without it.” This is an outright lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. I can’t continue without him, and on some level I’m sure he knows that. “I accepted that a LONG time ago, so don’t flatter yourself! What this is about is respect, pure and simple! And sometimes the truth IS pure and simple! And if you had ANY respect for me, that remark wouldn’t have come out of your mouth!” I point my finger at him and poke him in the chest for emphasis as I say this.

He is so angry now he can’t speak. It would be funny if the situation weren’t so damn serious. I know I’m being unfair and unreasonable, but he made that “undying love” comment and I can’t let it go now.

Harm’s POV

I hate this, when she gets me so mad I can’t speak. What does she mean, she accepted that long ago? Accepted what? I tried to tell her, I’ve showed her a million ways I love her, she’s the one that ran away! She’s the one that didn’t want to have ‘the talk”.

With great effort I choke back my ire, and take a deep breath. Walking over to the coffee table, I take a drink of the water she gave me, trying to calm myself down. What the hell is she talking about, I don’t respect her? I’ve ALWAYS respected her!

I set the water glass down with a bang and turn to face her. She’s standing there, arms crossed and glowering at me. All of the sudden I see the fear in her eyes, and it hits me. She’s trying to cover up her fear with anger. She knows I respect her. What she doesn’t know, because I never actually said the words, is that I love her.

“Damn it, Mac. You know good and well I respect you. I’ve never shown you anything except that.” I manage to lower my voice, and approach her again.

Unexpectedly her eyes are suddenly brimming with tears and I feel like an ogre. “I…I…know, Harm.” Her voice is shaky too. The knife in my gut turns a little more. “I’m sorry, I’m being oversensitive. Can we just chalk this up to hormones and forget about it?” She swipes at her eyes like a little girl, and something pulls in my heart. I can’t stand it when she cries.

I reach up and gently wipe the tears she missed, and she leans her face into my hand trustingly. It’s a familiar stance, me wiping away the tears I cause and her trusting me again. Sometimes I hate myself. “Mac, I’m the one who’s sorry. I just want you to understand that I didn’t mean it, not the way it sounded.” I stop, not wanting to go too far in this declaration; it’s not the time for declarations of love. “Are we okay now?”

She nods, and I draw her in for a hug, wishing with all my heart that I could get the words out, but it never seems to be the right time. She comes into my arms so easily, it’s a perfect fit. I vow to myself that we’re going to get together soon, I can’t wait much longer. I lean my cheek on her hair and just enjoy the moment.

With a little sigh, she finally moves back and gives a shaky laugh. “You’d better get home, Flyboy. It’s 0146 and you have court.”

I give her an answering chuckle and agree, although I hate it. “I know, I just had to talk to you.”

She walks me to the door and gives me another hug. “Night, Harm. Thanks for coming by.”

“Good night, Ninja-Girl. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door closes behind me as I walk out into the hall, and I wait for a minute to hear the lock click.

Mac’s POV

How can he do that? Just walk away? Doesn’t he know that it kills me? I close the door behind him, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms.

I collapse onto the couch, the hot tears that I had submerged while he was here coming back. I can’t keep doing this to myself; I’ve got to let him go. I’ve got to push him out of my heart but I don’t know how.

I decide to give myself the luxury of indulging in a ‘good cry’, hoping that will relieve some the pent-up heartache that is tearing me apart.

Harm’s POV

I stand outside her door, waiting for the lock to click. It doesn’t. I decide to wait a few more minutes, figuring she’ll remember and come back to the door to lock it.

I realize that I look ridiculous just standing outside in the hall, and probably suspicious as hell to the neighbors, but I don’t care. I know it’s stupid, but I want to make sure she’s safe. I know she can take care of herself, but sue me, I care.

Unfortunately I’ve been standing out here for a few minutes, and now I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to disturb her again, or wake her if she’s gone to bed. Finally I tentatively try the door handle in case I missed her locking it.

It turns, and I open the door. I step in, intending to lock the door and step back out, when a sound stops me. I’m caught. Turning around, I see Mac lying on the couch.

She’s curled up, and sobbing into a pillow as if her heart was broken. Aghast, I’m stunned into immobility. She said we were okay, that everything was fine, so why is she crying? In a flash I run through our conversation again, attempting to extract the reason for this.

Another blinding flash of clarity hits me as I remember her changing a phrase when she was arguing with me. ‘I thought even if you didn’t…I thought that even with all the problems we’ve had…’ In my head I fill in the blanks of that first phrase. “I thought even if you didn’t love me…’

She still hasn’t seen me. If I wanted to, I could continue with my original plan and lock the door and leave. But I don’t want to. It hits me full force that I’ve been a complete and total idiot. I’ve been waiting for her to give me some signal that she was ready to move forward, but she doesn’t think I love her.

I don’t want to scare her, but I’m sure as hell not leaving here with her sobbing like that. It’s time to end this little charade. I just hope I haven’t waited too long, that she really will give me…us…a chance.

Hesitantly I walk over to her and sit on the coffee table, waiting for her to see me. She’s turned the other way, and still sobbing into the pillow. I can’t take it anymore and place a hand on her shoulder.

Even knowing how quick she is I’m surprised by the swift reaction. In an instant she’s on her feet and a good 2 yards away, staring at me in astonishment, the pillow clutched to her. She gapes at me, unable to utter a word.

I know I’ve embarrassed her, catching her like this, but maybe it’s for the best. This way those formidable defenses won’t be readily in place. “I didn’t hear you lock the door,” I explain softly, “so I came back in.”

She doesn’t answer me, but her face flushes red. She turns to walk away to the bedroom, but I stand quickly and place a hand on her shoulder. “Mac, we need to talk.” Damn it, why is this so hard? If I had any sense I’d just grab her and kiss her senseless. Of course, she might just take me apart if I try that.

She shrugs my hand off self-consciously. “We already talked.”

“Mac,” I’m pleading now, “Please talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” Don’t say it, I know. This is entirely the wrong way to go about this. I shouldn’t be asking her what’s wrong, I should be telling her how I feel, but, there’s that little piece of me that just thinks I might be mistaken about her feelings.

She looks up at me and her eyes are blazing with anger. In spite of this whole fiasco, it strikes me how truly beautiful she is. She opens her mouth to let me have it, I’m sure, when suddenly every emotion just fades away from her.

Quietly she draws herself up and takes a deep breath. Her eyes take on a deep sadness. “I think you know what is wrong, Harm, don’t make me spell it out. Please, if you care anything for me at all, leave me with some dignity.”

The sadness in those big eyes breaks my heart, and I want to just make it go away. I reach out a hand again, to touch her cheek. “Mac,” I say, “Don’t you know by now how I feel?”

The beautiful eyes fill with tears again. Damn it. “Harm, if you want me to know how you feel, you have to tell me. I can’t do this anymore. It’s tearing me apart.”

I finally say it. Who knew the relief of actually verbalizing it would feel so good? “I love you, Mac. I always have.”

Mac’s POV

He said it. He actually opened his mouth and said it. ‘I love you, Mac.’ I must be dreaming. I shake my head to clear my jumbled thoughts, and like an idiot blurt out, “What?”

He smiles tenderly at me, and pulls me close, stroking my hair. His touch is so soothing, balm to my wounded soul. I rest my head on his shoulder, sure I must be imagining this. But his voice repeats the statement. “I love you, Mac.”

I know this sounds incredible, but I don’t know what to say or do. I’m stunned into immobility, totally blown away. I don’t even cry. I can’t make a sound come out of my mouth, much less a coherent statement as to my own feelings.

“Mac?” He’s still holding me, but his voice is worried. I think he’s afraid I’ve blown a gasket.

I finally pull myself away from, just a little, and look up to those ocean blue eyes. They look concerned, even fearful. With a start I realize that Harm is feeling insecure, that that fighter jock ego is actually unsure of me.

Once again I’m fighting back tears. “I ought to kick your six, Flyboy.”

This brings an outright laugh from him, considerably lightening the moment. “May I ask why?” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, making my heart do funny things in my chest.

“Because it took so long for you to get those words out, you ass!” Suddenly we are both laughing hard.

After a moment he wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes and hugs me again. “I take it that is your romantic way of telling me you love me too?” In spite of the hilarity, I hear the uncertainty in his voice.

My smile goes away. I want him to know how serious I am. “Harm, I’ve loved you so much and for so long I can’t remember what it was like to NOT love you.”

I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly he’s kissing me…I mean really kissing me. The room spins around me; I’m literally dizzy from the sensation. We’ve shared exactly three kisses before this, and this one blows them out of the park, which is saying a lot.

My knees buckle, but he’s holding me up in those strong arms. His mouth caresses mine, tempting me, daring me to open up, and I do. Oh God, this man knows how to kiss; his tongue touches mine, his lips tantalizing mine. I could do this for hours, he tastes so good.

He breaks off the kiss, both of us needing air, and covers my face with soft kisses, murmuring my name. “Sarah…oh Sarah…I’ve wanted you for so long.” The raw pleasure in the whispered phrase sends a shiver down my spine. He trails his mouth down my neck, nibbling and kissing, and I feel myself tremble with pleasure at the onslaught.

I feel his hand sneak up under the back of my pajama top, his fingertips just grazing over my skin, sending little tendrils of desire through me. I may die from pleasure before we really do anything. I give one fleeting thankful thought that I shaved my legs earlier in the evening and then give in completely to the passion this man is rousing in me.

I press myself against him as closely as possible, reveling in the feel of his muscled body against mine. Even through his jeans, I can feel him, hot and hard, and I rub my hips against him wantonly. He clutches me to him, moaning.

I continue my attack, unbuttoning his shirt while I’m kissing him, and letting my fingers play across his chest. Lord, the times I’ve imagine doing this, and now it’s finally…FINALLY happening. I push the shirt off his shoulders, allowing my hands to drift slowly down his arms, tracing the muscle, just taking pleasure in touching him, indulging myself completely.

He distracts me though. We haven’t stopped kissing for a moment, both of us starved for each other. The hands that had been delicately tracing patterns on my back sneak between us, and he cups my breasts underneath the pajama top. I gasp at the feelings his touch invokes, the fire shooting down to my center.

My head falls back; my bones are slowly turning to mush. He trails kisses down my neck, butterfly kisses that tantalize as his fingers tease my nipples, hardening them. His hands leave my breasts, and I gasp again, this time in protest. I feel his laugh against my neck, his breath tickling me unbearably. “Be patient, Sarah.”

His fingers fumble with the buttons of my top, and it falls off, gently dropping on the ground behind me. He stops and stares, then his hands reach out and caress my breasts again reverently. “You are so beautiful, Sarah.”

Harm’s POV

I admit, I’ve known more than my share of beautiful women in my life. Sometimes I cared for them deeply, other times it was a casual relationship. But, regardless of circumstances, I have never seen a more beautiful woman than the one standing in front of me, blushing.

Before the moment can become awkward, I pull her back to me, and the feel of her beautiful breasts against my bare chest almost makes me lose it right there. Skin to skin contact…the smoothness of her…the delicacy.

Then she’s kissing me again, those full luscious lips that seduce me with the promise of pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. “Harm,” she whispers to me, “let’s go to the bedroom.”

The woman is a genius too. I know, it’s an obvious place to go right now, but I’m not thinking to clearly. I have a warm, willing Sarah Mackenzie in my arms, and every drop of blood in my brain has gone south.

I can’t let her go; I can’t be away from her, even for a minute. She tries to lead me towards the bedroom, but I pull her to me. “Don’t leave me, Sarah.” I’m almost embarrassed at how juvenile that sounds, but she knows what I mean.

“I won’t, Harm. Not now, not ever.” Her whispered reassurance fills me with a kind of joy I didn’t know I was capable of. If I’d only known it would be like this…I never would have waited this long.

She wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me, and I lift her up, her legs fitting around my waist. I can’t be bothered with looking where I’m going; I can only kiss her and hold her as I walk towards the bedroom. At least I hope I’m heading in the right direction.

I knock my shin painfully on the coffee table, bringing forth a muffled curse from me and an answering giggle from Sarah. “Look out, Flyboy.”

I don’t bother to answer, just go back to kissing her. We finally make to the bed, and we fall on it together in a wonderful tangle of arms and legs. Sarah (she will never be Mac to me again, I fear) is still giggling.

I scold her teasingly. “Stop giggling, woman. This is serious business.” This, of course, only elicits more giggles. I have to laugh myself. This wasn’t the smoothest attempt at seduction on my part, but in my life I think it is by far the best.

She stops laughing abruptly when I take her nipple in my mouth, sucking the rosy peak gently, running my tongue around it. Instantly responding, her nipple hardens and she gives a low moan of my name. “Oh Harm.” I want to hear her calling my name like that every day for the rest of my life.

Mac’s POV

Holy Lord does that man have a talented mouth. He’s making me crazy with the way he’s sucking my breasts, I think I might come just from that alone. But his hand is sneaking its way down my pajama bottoms, pushing them down. They go easily, the waist is elastic, and then…OH GOD…he touches me. I can’t stop myself from calling out when he slips a finger inside me, then circles my clit.

I can feel the wetness; I’m so ready for him. I’ve been ready for years actually, so this is no surprise. But I don’t want to come yet, I haven’t even touched him, and if he keeps sucking and kissing my breasts like that…Oh God…and touching me…Oh God, Harm…Please…I’m going to come right now.

It takes every bit of strength I possess, but I manage to push him away. He looks up from my breast and grins evilly. “Gotta problem, marine?” I don’t answer as I try to catch my breath, and his grin only widens.

I reach for him, but he avoids me, slipping between my legs. Before I can protest, his mouth is there, on me…and…oh my God…it feels so good…I couldn’t let him stop now for anything. His tongue is playing with my clit, tantalizing that little bundle of nerves, and each stroke sends a burning fire, a raging inferno shooting through me. He slips his finger back inside me, slowly drawing it in and out. I can’t stop myself, my hips are moving even though I try to keep them still…but I can’t…and then…every muscle in my body clenches as the orgasm overcomes me…washes over me. The world around me vanishes until there is only Harm…wrapping me in a bliss I have never felt before. I know I’m crying out his name, but I can’t stop…don’t want to stop.

Harm’s POV

If there is anything sexier than Sarah in the throes of an orgasm calling my name, I can’t imagine what it is. I’m so hard it’s almost painful, and she hasn’t even touched me yet. I still have my jeans on, in fact, but I don’t want to leave where I am. Eagerly I lap up the honey that flows from her, an addiction that I will never get rid of.

I lie there, between her legs, quietly resting my head on her thigh as she comes back down to earth. I inhale the scent of her again, wanting to remember this moment forever…as if I could ever forget it.

I finally leave my nest, crawling up beside her to take her in my arms. I can feel the rapid beat of her heart against mine as I hold her, and I know I can’t wait long.

As if in a dream, I feel her hands wrestle with the button and zipper on my jeans. I’m so hard it’s difficult to get the zipper down, but she manages. She pushes gently at my shoulders, and I comply, lying on my back. I lift my hips as she slides the jeans down, pulling them off along with my shoes and socks.

In a moment she is back, and the surreal moment of actually making love to her has arrived. I feel her gaze on me, but I’m past the point of being embarrassed. I just want her. I suck in my breath when her hand strokes me gently, and I moan loudly when she leans over to kiss my shaft and lick up the drops already there.

She takes me in her mouth, and holy shit…it feels so good…but I can’t. I want to be inside her, and I’m not going to last long. Reluctantly I tug gently at her shoulder, and miraculously she understands without me having to explain.

There is a smile gracing her beautiful face, and she rises over me, straddling me. Her eyes hypnotize me, never leaving mine as she lowers herself on to me…her hand guiding me into her…and…oh Sarah…the hot velvety wetness of her surrounds me…engulfs me in a sea of ecstasy…I could drown happy here.

Slowly…oh so slowly…she rises up…sliding….and back down. Her own eyes finally close as she covers me, and I pull her down to kiss her. “I love you, Harm” she whispers to me as she continues that glorious push and pull…leaving me speechless and helpless beneath her.

I’m holding on so tight…if I let loose I’ll be gone in an instant…but she doesn’t stop that wondrous torture…each long slow slide spreading the rapture through me…and suddenly I can’t wait. “Sarah…” I whisper, not knowing what to tell her. But she understands, and she picks up the pace, but I can’t stand it. I roll us over, carefully never breaking contact with the heaven that is she, and thrust into her.

Her arms and legs go around me, and she clings tightly, letting me set the pace now. But I know…it’s only a moment…away…and then it’s here…and everything I am goes shooting through me…and it sounds corny…but I feel like I just gave her my soul.

Mac’s POV

I don’t think he realized it, but he was calling my name the whole time we were making love. Soft, whispering calls of Sarah…Love… Honey. I never thought Harm would be like this…I couldn’t have imagined the intensity… the tenderness…the love. I simply had no frame of reference for it.

He’s collapsed on top of me now, and I want nothing more in life except for him to stay her like this, deep inside me. I think if I died right now, at least I’d die happy.

Finally he stirs and props himself up on his elbows. “Hey.” His blue eyes look into mine, and he brushes the hair off my forehead.

“Hey.” I say softly back. Words seem so unimportant right now.

“That was…” He stops, obviously searching for words, but I cut him off with a smile. “I know.”

He leans over and kisses me then, softly and gently, and the love inside me wells up even stronger if that is possible.

He settles to the side of me, and once again those strong arms go around me. I nestle close, knowing that I’m finally where I want to be.

The End

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