Title: Silent Surrender
Author: StarTrails
Rating: NC-17*
Summary:  How the episode "Silent Service" *really* should have ended. 
Things get mighty steamy under that Arctic Ice Sheet!  ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or the characters pertaining to it.
Feedback: Yes, please. I’d love to hear from you!  Email addy is 
StarTrails@hotmail.com
For my "cleaner" stories, visit 
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/StarTrailsJAGfic
Note: This alternates between Harm and Mac's POV, but it should be 
obvious 
which is which.

...And now, on with the show!


0145 LOCAL
ABOARD THE USS WATERTOWN
SSN 696


She was dead.  Dead in my arms and I almost lost her.  That thought has 
consumed me for the past two hours as I've been pacing back and forth, 
wearing a groove in the floor of my stateroom in this underwater tin 
can 
they call a submarine.  I've tried to fall asleep, but every time I 
close my 
eyes, it comes back to me - the feel of her limp form in my arms after 
I 
stabbed Chief Hodge with the syringe he'd intended for me.

She couldn't die.  She just couldn't.  I wouldn't let her.  Not when 
we'd 
left so much unsaid.  So I lowered her to the floor gently, but quickly 
- 
there wasn't a second to waste.  The world dissolved around me; the 
only 
thing that existed for me in that moment was Mac, and how to bring her 
back 
to me so I could tell her everything I'd been holding inside.

I pushed my own pain and injuries aside as all my emergency training 
came 
flooding back to me.  So many times I've dreamed about pressing my 
mouth to 
hers, but never once was the scenario I've imagined anything like this.  
I 
pinched her nose shut and forced a rescue breath into her.  Nothing.  
Again 
I breathed for her, giving everything I am, willing her to come back.  
Still 
nothing.  Dammit.  There was absolutely no way I was going to let her 
die on 
me.  God damn you, Hodge, hadn't I lost enough already?  So many people 
important to me.  So many people I...loved.  Yeah, go ahead, Harm, 
admit it. 
  It's not like you can deny it anymore.  Not after tonight.

Before I leaned in to give Mac another breath, she came to, coughing 
and 
gasping for air.  I used to think the most amazing sound in the world 
was 
the roar of a jet engine as an aircraft catapulted off the deck of a 
carrier.  But I was wrong.  I now know that the most wonderful sound in 
all 
creation, the sound that will occupy my happiest dreams, is that of 
Sarah 
Mackenzie breathing.

I gathered her in my arms and held her with all my might, held on for 
dear 
life, for dear love.  I wanted to hold on and never let go, but 
eventually I 
had to.  Despite the quarantine on sickbay and the surrounding areas, 
some 
crew members came by to see what the commotion was.  Seeing the blood 
on my 
neck and coveralls, and seeing Mac, pale and disoriented, they tore us 
away 
from each other so we could receive medical attention from one of the 
non-murderous corpsmen on board.

They practically had to pry my hands off her, but eventually I relented 
and 
loosened my hold.  What was I supposed to do - tell them to go the hell 
away 
so I could just hold her tight and rock her gently in my arms and 
pretend 
like nothing and no one existed in the world but us?  Yeah, I'm sure 
that 
would've looked great on my service record:  Harmon Rabb, Jr., 
Annapolis 
graduate, aviator-turned-JAG lawyer, Distinguished Flying Cross, and, 
oh 
yeah, by the way, pouts like a baby when not in direct physical contact 
with 
his Marine partner.

Suck it up, Harm.

Yeah, right.

We've been together in dangerous situations before, but nothing like 
this.  
Even when Coster was stalking Mac, I knew we'd get him before he could 
really hurt her.  And in Russia, I would've convinced her to quit if I 
had 
thought she couldn't handle herself.  I was telling her the truth at 
the 
train station when I said I didn't know where my search for my father 
was 
going to lead.  And she was stubborn as a mule, or should I say, a 
Marine, 
but I've sweet talked my way out of tougher situations before.  If I 
had 
honestly believed there was a chance of something happening to her, I 
could've gotten her to stay behind.  And hell, if I had known her 
ex-husband 
was threatening her, I would've killed the son of a bitch before Farrow 
even 
had the chance to try.  I'm not certain of much in this world, but I do 
know 
that I would lay down my own life before I let anyone hurt Sarah 
Mackenzie.

Those thoughts and a thousand others plague me now, keeping me awake 
when I 
should be getting a good night's sleep because Mac and I have to wake 
up 
early to prepare our official report on Chief Hodge to the Skipper, not 
to 
mention continue our original investigation and find a way to appease 
the 
Norwegians.  But who am I kidding?  There's no way I can sleep tonight.  
I'm 
not sure I'll ever be able to sleep again, unless it's with Mac beside 
me.

So I'm wide awake and still pacing.  I suppose I should be grateful 
though; 
this stateroom isn't exactly the Ritz, but it's better than those tiny 
coffins they call the enlisted quarters.  After we exposed Hodge for 
the 
deranged bastard he is, Commander Flaggler was kind enough to find 
private 
staterooms for me and Mac until we're out from under the Arctic ice 
sheet, 
to where we can surface and get the hell out of here.

Nevertheless, thanks to more than a week of sleeping in the fetal 
position, 
my back won't be right for quite a while.  But right now I don't even 
care 
about that.  My mind swims again with images from before, the worst of 
which 
being when I came to, on the floor, to see Hodge's thick arm wrapped 
around 
Mac's neck, strangling the life out of her.

I feel like the walls in here are closing in on me, and the room, my 
space 
to think, getting smaller and smaller.  Now I know how Meg felt when we 
were 
on the Tigershark.  I feel like I'm going to suffocate, and there isn't 
a 
scrap of fresh air or sunlight on the agenda for days.

Despite a heavy dose of painkillers, my throat and neck are still 
killing 
me.  My voice is nonexistent beyond a gravelly whisper, and with every 
breath I take, I feel like there's a lead weight pressing against my 
chest.  
But of course, my sudden claustrophobia and fight for air have nothing 
to do 
with Hodge's blow to my larynx and everything to do with the fact that 
Mac 
almost died in my arms.

I sigh.  There's only one way I'll fall asleep tonight, and I can't 
make it 
happen in here by myself.  So I close the hatch quietly behind me and 
make 
my way to the only place, the only person, where I know I'll find 
peace.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

SAME TIME


When I close my eyes I can still feel his arms around me, holding me 
tight.  
So tight, and I never wanted him to let go.  He was behind me and my 
eyes 
still stung and burned from the ammonia, but I reached up to cup his 
face in 
my hand, hoping that in that simple gesture I could convey my desperate 
need 
to touch him, to cling to him, to make sure he was really there.

Just moments before, Harm and Hodge were fighting.  Their forms were 
little 
more than dark blurs across my blinded vision, but I could hear the 
sounds 
of their struggle - the grunts of exertion, the heavy breathing, the 
dull 
thud of fists hitting flesh.  Hodge landed a cutting blow to Harm's 
already 
injured throat, leveling him to the cold metal floor.  With no thought 
to 
the sadistic corpsman's next move, I knelt down beside Harm, who wasn't 
responding.  I blindly felt for his face and when I reached his neck, 
that's 
when I felt it - the unmistakable slickness of blood, warm and slippery 
on 
my fingers.  Harm was unconscious and bleeding, and I couldn’t see well 
enough to help him.  Damn you, Hodge, and damn that ammonia.

A few minutes before that, in my only stroke of luck after almost two 
weeks 
aboard this underwater sardine can, I had found the steam valve and 
turned 
it on full blast, hoping the moisture in the air would help flush my 
eyes.  
But I was wrong, and it did nothing but soak the three of us and make 
everything in the room wet and slippery.  I raised my fingers to my 
nose to 
confirm what I already knew, and before I could think of a way to help 
Harm, 
Hodge had his arm around my neck, strangling me.  I gasped and fought 
for a 
breath, but the air was heavy with the steam and Hodge’s grip was so 
tight.

I tried to fight it, but everything around me was going dark.  I knew 
it 
would be over soon, but I didn’t care.  My only thought, my last 
thought, 
was of Harm, losing his own battle just inches away from me.  This 
wasn’t 
how it was supposed to end for him.  For us.  Not when we’d been 
fighting 
like cats and dogs since before we’d even come aboard the Watertown.  
Not 
when we would die before I ever told him how I felt about him.  That 
I’m not 
satisfied just being partners.  That I want more.  So much more.  No.  
It 
simply could not end this way.

But it was going to.  There was no stopping it.  The world around me 
was 
getting blacker and blacker and I couldn’t hold on.  I gave in to the 
dark 
abyss, my final thought going to what Hodge would do to Harm after I 
was 
dead.

I don’t know how long I laid there; I guess not seeing sunlight for a 
while 
had thrown off my internal clock, but when I came to, I was coughing 
and 
gasping as the sweet rush of air filled my lungs.  And if I live to be 
a 
thousand years old, I will never forget how it felt to be in his arms, 
wrapped so safely in his strong, protective embrace.

And now, here I am, tossing and turning in my rack, longing to have 
those 
arms around me again.  I know I should suck it up, I’m a damn Marine 
after 
all.  But I almost lost my life tonight.  I almost lost my best friend, 
and 
soldier or not, I’m not above admitting I could use a shoulder to lean 
on.  
Even if that shoulder belongs to a squid.

Look at me, trying to make jokes, when what I really want to do is cry 
like 
a baby.  I want to cry and cry until no more tears will come, and I 
want 
Harm to hold me and comfort me, and tell me that everything’s going to 
be 
okay.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I knock softly on the hatch to Mac’s stateroom.  I know she rarely 
sleeps 
well, and considering today’s events, I imagine tonight is even worse 
than 
usual.  She should be awake, so why isn’t she answering?  She has to be 
here.  It’s not like this is a carrier, with a million different places 
to 
escape to when you want to think or be alone.  Here, there’s nowhere to 
go.

I knock again, a little harder, but not too hard - I don’t want to wake 
anyone.  The poor guys on subs get little enough sleep as it is.  
There’s 
still no answer.  Dammit, she better open the door soon.  The longer I 
stay 
out here, the greater the risk that someone will walk by and ask what 
the 
hell I’m doing outside the quarters of the only female on board at 
zero-two-thirty.  With my heart in my throat, I go for broke and pound 
my 
fist on the hatch.

Come on, Mac, open up…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Who the heck is knocking on my door at zero-two-twenty four?  No doubt 
another batch of horny enlisted kids desperate to see me in my pajamas 
again.  I ignore them.  Sorry boys, no peep show tonight.  They knock 
again, 
louder this time.  I sigh.  So much for the Navy turning out gentlemen 
these 
days.  Too bad.  They’ll just have to wait until we surface and go in 
port 
to see another nice pair of breasts.

I turn over and pound my fist into my pillow in a vain attempt to make 
it 
comfortable again after the past two hours and seventeen minutes of 
tossing 
and turning.  The noise is much louder than it should be as my hand 
meets 
the cotton fabric, and then I realize it’s not me - it’s someone else, 
banging hard on the door.

I throw the blankets off me and walk to the hatch.  Good thing it’s 
only a 
few steps away, because I’m still a little weak.  Why don’t they put 
peepholes on these damn doors?  Before I even open the hatch, I launch 
into 
another tirade against these kids, who obviously have no respect for 
the 
chain of command.  “What’s the matter, guys, trash compactor broken 
this 
time?!”

But my rage is instantly shut down as I take in the sight on the other 
side. 
  Standing before me on this lonely night, in this lonely submarine, in 
a 
lonely, dark ocean is the very reason for my restless night.  For so 
many 
restless nights.  And while he’s not enlisted, I can’t say I’d mind if 
he 
was horny . . .

But he looks anything but.  Harm’s never had much of a poker face, and 
despite what he might ever say, his true emotions are always crystal 
clear 
in his expressions.  It’s something he probably hates about himself; I 
can 
see him thinking it makes him weak, that it’s a flaw.  But I’ve always 
been 
grateful for that small chink in his armor.  So many times, he claimed 
to 
feel one way, but his face, his eyes, betrayed him.  Most recently, 
when we 
thought Webb was dead, he made jokes about Palmer coming after him, and 
how 
it would make finding him a whole lot easier.  But I could see the fear 
behind his mask.  The guilt.

But what do I see now, with Harm just outside my room?  The storm 
playing 
across his face tells me he feels the same things I do.  Fear.  
Loneliness.  
Hunger.  Longing.

I say nothing, and just step back to let him in.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank God.  She was staring at me so long I wasn’t sure she was going 
to let 
me in.  She probably wasn’t sure herself.  Maybe she was wondering what 
I’m 
doing here at this hour.  Or maybe, like me, she was wondering what the 
hell 
took me so long.

I don’t know the answer to that, and it doesn’t matter, because I’m 
here, 
now.  Without a word, I step inside and close the hatch as quietly as I 
can, 
and as soon as I do, I lean my back against it and pull Mac toward me, 
enveloping her in my arms.

“Harm, what-“

“Shhh,” I plead.  “Just let me hold you.  Please, I need to hold you.”  
I 
sound desperate, begging like a little boy, but I’m too far-gone to 
care.  I 
feel her nod against my chest and I tighten the embrace as she wraps 
her 
arms around me.  We stand like that for a long time, though how long 
I’m not 
exactly sure.  Time has evaporated, and all that matters is us, here, 
together.  Finally, I make a move to pull away and walk to the chair, 
but 
Mac stops me, her hold on me still tight.

“No,” she says, “don’t let go.”

As if she had to ask.  I’ll hold her for as long as she wants.  For as 
long 
as either of us needs.  After a short time, she places her hand on my 
back 
and leads me to the chair, which she positions so it’s facing the 
bottom 
rack, the one she’ll sleep in.  And if the state of the blankets is any 
indication, her night has been just as fitful as mine.

Her hand travels from my back to grasp my own hand, never breaking 
contact 
with at least some part of me, and she motions for me to take the chair 
while she sits on the edge of the bed.

“How’s your throat?” she asks.

My voice is still a scratchy whisper.  “It doesn’t hurt, but I still 
can’t 
talk.”

She nods, and while one of her hands still holds mine, she reaches up 
with 
her other to caress my face.  Her soft fingertips glide so gently over 
the 
bruises from my fight with Hodge, and I’m convinced that if there were 
really such a thing as the magic touch, Mac would have it, and those 
black 
and blues would disappear.  But it’s okay that they’re there.  Nothing 
that 
won’t go away in a few days, and besides, they don’t hurt very much.  
Nothing could possibly hurt me now that I’m here and Mac’s okay.

“What about you?” I ask her.  “You all right?”

She nods.  “Just a little shaken up.”

“Me too,” I admit.  The middle of the night is no time for hiding 
things.  
“You gave me quite a scare today, Marine.”

She smiles.  “Well, I still owe you one then, because you gave me two - 
once 
when you called me to sickbay to tell me about Hodge, and I saw you 
lying 
there on the table, drugged, and then again when you were fighting him.  
He 
knocked you out for a minute, and I went to you.”  Her voice is shaky.  
“You 
were bleeding . . . I couldn’t see . . .”  Her next words are swallowed 
by 
the tears she can’t hold back.

This woman is amazing.  *She’s* the one who almost died, yet *I’m* the 
one 
she’s worried about?  I get up and sit next to her on the rack and draw 
her 
close.  She nestles her head against my chest and I slowly run my hand 
along 
her back.

“It’s all right,” I tell her.  “We’re okay, Mac.”

She sniffles, still clinging to me.  “Are we?”

“Of course we are.”

She pulls away just enough to look up at me.  “Harm, we were fighting.  
I 
was so angry.”  She pauses for a moment.  “We . . . we almost lost each 
other.”  She shakes her head, willing herself to keep more tears at 
bay.  “I 
. . . I didn’t want our last words to be in anger.”  She loses the 
battle to 
her tears and they trickle down her cheeks.  “I’m sorry, Harm.  I’m so 
sorry.”

I cradle her against me once again.  “Me too, Mac.  I’m sorry, too.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what happens now?” I ask him.

“Oh, I think we’ll be okay.  No permanent damage done.  Like you said, 
we 
were due.  When people spend as much time together as we do, they’re 
bound 
to fight now and then.  It doesn’t mean they love each other any less.”

Whoa . . . My mind must be playing tricks on me, because I could swear 
he 
just said . . . Never mind.  No need to ruin the moment by asking him 
about 
it.  If I do, he’s likely to run as fast as he can and never look back, 
and 
I won’t let that happen, because there’s no way I’ll sleep tonight 
unless 
it’s with him next to me.  How we’re going to manage that on a 
submarine I 
don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care.  I need him with me tonight, so 
screw 
the fraternization rules.

I know I should be stronger than this.  I hate playing the helpless 
female, 
but it hasn’t been an easy year.  In the last few months alone I’ve 
been 
stalked by a sick DC homicide detective, I’ve been on trial for murder, 
and 
two men I had been involved with wound up dead.  Not quite the poster 
girl 
for the Marine Corps.  More like a sure thing for the psych ward at 
Bethesda.

So I’m entitled to a few tears.  Not even kevlar vests and hand 
grenades can 
protect me from my own cursed luck.  It’s a wonder Harm got out of 
there 
alive today.  My arms go around him and I hold him as tight as I can.  
Maybe 
if we stay in here forever, just the two of us . . . If not for needing 
food 
and water, I’d say it was a good plan.  Together forever in this room, 
where 
the worst that could happen to us is a paper cut.  No bullet wounds in 
the 
leg, no false accusations, no UCMJ, and no planes getting shot down.  
No one 
and nothing except us, and all the time in the world.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Harm?”  Mac’s voice is muffled, her face still pressed against my 
chest.

“Hmm?”

“You couldn’t sleep?”

I fail to stifle a small chuckle.  I should’ve known it wouldn’t escape 
the 
human clock what time it was when I knocked on her door.  “No, I tried, 
but 
. . .”

She pulls back from me slightly.  “But what?  Are you all right?”

“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know.”  We smile at each other.  “Before, 
no, I 
was not all right.  I tried to go to sleep, but I . . . every time I 
closed 
my eyes, I saw Chief Hodge’s arm around your throat and . . .” I have 
to 
bite my lip to hold back the tremble in my voice.  “But now I’m okay.”

Her big brown doe eyes fix on mine, and with a single word, whispered 
so 
quietly I’m not even sure I heard it, she manages to ask me every 
question 
in the world, every question I asked myself as I walked to this room 
just a 
little while ago.  “Why?”

My eyes stay locked on hers, and I place a finger under her chin, 
drawing 
her face up to mine at the same time as I lower mine to hers.  “You 
know 
why,” I whisper as our lips touch.  In my gentle kiss, I try to convey 
the 
infinite meanings behind that statement.  And when we part, I can see 
in her 
eyes that she understands every one of them.

I should have known it wouldn’t be enough, one kiss that was over all 
too 
quickly.  I lean in again and Mac's mouth meets mine eagerly.  I don't 
know 
that this is what I had in mind when I knocked on the door before; 
really, I 
came here seeking . . . what, exactly?  Her comfort, her warmth.  And I 
have 
those now.  Those and so much more.

I feel Mac's hands tangle in my hair and it doesn't take long before my 
whole body starts to respond.  So maybe I didn't come here looking for 
this, 
but now, I can't imagine wanting anything else.  My tongue probes Mac's 
lips 
and she parts them for me, inviting me to explore and taste her mouth 
as she 
makes the same gentle foray into mine.  Considering we're at the bottom 
of a 
frigid ocean, it is starting to feel very hot in here . . .

I pull away and am about to cover the soft line of Mac's jaw with 
kisses 
that will leave no doubt as to what I want to do, but she pushes me 
back and 
jumps up from the rack.

"Mac, what--"

"We can't, Harm.  We can't do this."

Dammit, yes we can.  We *have to.*  "Why not?" I ask, my breathing 
already 
rapid.

"What about Jordan?"

"What *about* her?"

"I can't be the other woman, Harm.  I *won't* be."  She turns away from 
me, 
her arms folded defensively across her chest.

I get up and stand behind her, putting my hands on her shoulders to 
turn her 
around to me.  "You're not, Sarah.  You're the *only* woman."

"But--"

"But nothing."  How can she just stop this?  How can she stand there 
and 
pretend like this isn't destiny?

"Harm--"

"Mac!"  I hold her hard.  I hate that some part of me might scare her, 
might 
seem domineering, or abusive, even.  But I can't help it.  I can't let 
her 
look at me like she did just a few seconds ago and then turn around and 
say 
she doesn't want this.  After all we've been through together, 
especially 
recently, I'm not above begging.  Whoever said jetjocks have egos the 
size 
of aircraft carriers obviously never met one who was in love with Sarah 
Mackenzie.  I loosen my grip on her arms and reach up with one hand to 
caress her face.  "Mac, I'll take care of things with Jordan when we 
get 
home, I promise.  But I need you tonight.  Please, Mac, I need you."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jordan's a nice girl, but right now, if even the Admiral himself were 
here, 
ordering me to step away, there would still be no stopping this.  Us.  
I put 
my hand behind Harm's head, pulling him down towards me as I rise up on 
my 
tiptoes to fuse our mouths together again.  It's tough, logistically, 
but I 
have to admit, I'm old-fashioned when it comes to things like this, and 
I'm 
glad he's taller.  I like a man to be bigger and stronger than I am.  
Well, 
no, that has definitely not always been a good thing, but I know Harm 
would 
never, ever hurt me.  Not intentionally, anyway.

In my head I offer a silent apology to Jordan, even as my hands reach 
for 
the zipper of Harm's coveralls.  The quiet buzz of the metal links 
separating is music to my ears.  I push the dark blue fabric over his 
shoulders and down his arms until it hangs down from the waist, 
revealing 
his lean, muscled torso to my hungry eyes.  Forget the dress whites and 
gold 
wings; this man is turning a plain white undershirt into a lethal 
weapon.

Harm's hands are just as busy as mine, roaming all over my back, 
applying 
pressure at my hips and squeezing gently at my ass.  So, all that time 
on 
the stairmaster hasn't been a total waste . . . I run my hands along 
Harm's 
chest through the thin cotton, but it's not enough.  I want to feel his 
warm 
skin.  I tug at the hem, and Harm is quick to cooperate, lifting the 
shirt 
over his head and throwing it a few feet away.  Oh my . . .

I press my face to him, inhaling deeply of his male scent and feeling 
the 
heat of his body.  I look up and meet his eyes, turning dark with 
desire.  
He is absolutely beautiful.  A few weeks ago, when Coster asked me if 
there 
were any men in my life besides Dalton, even men I only fantasized 
about, I 
said no.  What was I supposed to do?  The object of all my most erotic 
fantasies was standing right there in the same room!  Was I supposed to 
say 
yes, I have dreams about Harm?  Dreams about swirling my tongue around 
and 
around his nipples until he begs me to take my mouth lower?  That I've 
dreamed about him making me come so hard I forget my own name?  Because 
that's the truth.  All those things.  All those fantasies.  And now 
they're 
about to come true.  Every last incredible one of them.  I take it 
back, 
Jordan.  I'm not sorry at all.

Intoxicated by the smell of him, the very nearness of him, I trail my 
tongue 
from his collarbone to one of his nipples.  I lick and suck at it until 
I 
hear Harm's breath catch and feel his hands still on my back.  I think 
a lot 
of women don't appreciate how to tantalize a man above his belt.  I 
doubt 
Jordan ever bothers, and Annie?  Poor frazzled woman was probably just 
so 
glad to have a man see her as anything but a single mom and mortgage 
officer.  Well, Christmas is coming early for Harm this year.  I'm 
gonna 
give him gifts like he's never gotten before . . .

I step back just a little.

"Mac?" he asks.

"Shhh, just let me look at you."  He looks amused, yet a little shy, as 
I 
ogle him shamelessly.  Who am I kidding?  It's Christmas all around, 
and I 
am going to enjoy very slooowly unwrapping the present in front of me.  
I 
reach out and run my fingers across his chest, moving outward over his 
shoulders, settling on his solid biceps.  "You're sooo strong," I purr 
before moving in to place open-mouthed kisses on the muscles.  "So 
sexy," I 
add, trailing my mouth across his chest and onto his arm.  Might as 
well 
stroke his male pride before I stroke . . . something else.

I run the fingers of one hand teasingly across his stomach as I walk 
around 
him, kissing and massaging his back, reveling in the feel of the hard 
shoulderblades under his soft skin.  I cup his firm backside in my 
hands.  
"Nice view from behind, too," I say against him before nipping at the 
back 
of his neck.  Finally, I return to his chest and center in on his 
nipples 
again, my mouth treating one while my fingers play with the other.  
Harm's 
hands become fists tugging at my T-shirt while he trembles from my 
touch.

"Mac, please," he pants.

"Please what?"  I nip ever so lightly against him with my teeth, and 
his 
grip on me tightens.

"Aah . . . God, you're good at that."

I look up to see his expression, and where before he was watching me, 
now 
his head is thrown back, his mouth hanging open while he moans.

Flyboy, you have no idea . . .

----------------------------------------------------------------------

She's going to kill me, and she hasn't even touched me yet, not where I 
really want her to.  But she knows, and I'm sure she'll get there soon.  
How 
can she not know - the tent in my coveralls is getting bigger by the 
second. 
  I've heard Mac talk in the courtroom and have always known that 
wasn't the 
only thing her mouth would be amazing at.  She's telling me how sexy I 
am, 
how built.  Leave it to Mac to make me blush at a time like this, and 
not a 
red light in sight.  Only green, green, green.

I've never had a woman take so much time with me.  Or, maybe that's 
because 
I wouldn't let them.  No point in long, sensual lovemaking when all I 
cared 
about was getting off.  Not that it was ever making love anyway.  How 
can it 
be when the word 'love' never applied?

But tonight, with Mac, all that has changed.  I want to give her 
everything 
she's giving me and more.  So I'm going to let myself be selfish for 
just a 
little while longer, safe in the knowledge that I will return the favor 
tenfold, if not tonight then some other time.  I want to tease and 
touch her 
until she can't stand it anymore.  Yeah, call me selfish.  I want to 
make 
her beg me for it, for what we both want, both need.

Mac continues her magic on my nipples until I shiver, every last nerve 
ending in my body brought to life by her incredible touch.  God, I 
don't 
want her to ever stop, but if she doesn't she'll never get to where I'd 
really love that mouth.  Right on my . . . And before I can finish the 
thought, she's there, her hand cupping me through my coveralls.  I let 
out a 
moan, which due to my injury, is hardly more than a whisper, but that's 
a 
good thing.  The last thing Mac and I need is for someone to hear 
what's 
going on in here.

I'm about to explode, and this is with her touching me through two 
layers of 
clothing.  "Wait," I plead.  If we're going to do this, then let's do 
it 
right.  I kick off my shoes and pull off my socks, shoving everything 
out of 
the way with my foot.

"Tsk tsk," Mac shakes her head.  "You're still coherent enough to think 
of 
logistics, sailor?  I'll have to fix that."  She licks her lips and her 
tongue makes a path down my chest, down over the small patch of hair at 
my 
navel until she's at the waist of the coveralls.  I suck in a sharp 
breath 
as she eases the zipper down slowly, so slowly over my rock hard 
erection, 
and I swear the woman is going to kill me.  But, oh, what a way to go . 
. .

She pushes the coveralls to the floor and I step out of them, and 
before I 
can make another move, Mac is back at it again.  This time, one of her 
hands 
kisses and massages my calf while she makes a trail of fiery kisses on 
my 
other leg, from my ankle to my knee, each kiss burning me like a brand, 
marking me unmistakably hers.  Yes, Sarah, God yes, I'm yours.

She switches legs and when she's finished giving them equal treatment, 
she 
starts in on my thighs, and damn, it has never felt like this before.  
My 
cock is like a lead weight, and I don't know how much longer I can 
wait.  
And then suddenly I don't have to.  I watch as her slender fingers 
probe the 
opening of my boxers and her hand surrounds me.  A harsh cry escapes 
me, and 
I find myself actually grateful for my throat injury; if not for that, 
I 
have no idea how I'd be able to keep quiet, and considering this sub is 
made 
of steel, you'd be surprised how thin the walls are.

Mac slowly runs her hand along the length of me, pushing me even 
further to 
the brink.  "Mac," I whisper.  I can't hold out much longer, and I'll 
be 
damned if I'm going to come in her hand and not her--

"Problem, sailor?" she teases, smiling up at me saucily.  "Maybe you'd 
like 
this better?"  And with that she takes me in her mouth, and I have to 
brace 
myself, my hands tightly gripping the edge of the top rack to keep from 
collapsing now that my legs have turned to jell-o.

Mac alternates long, deep strokes along my shaft with just circling her 
tongue on the tip.  Jesus, do they teach this kind of torture technique 
to 
Marines in boot camp?  'Cuz right now, I'd confess to just about 
anything . 
. .

But wait, this isn't right.  I'm practically naked, and Mac hasn't shed 
a 
stitch of clothing.  Better brace yourself, Major.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I always knew he'd be big, but this . . . this is more than I've 
imagined in 
even my most generous fantasies.  Leave it to Harm, tops in everything, 
even 
here.  Not that I'm bitter.  Far from it, in fact.  I can't wait to 
have 
every last enormous inch of him deep inside me.

I'm lost in the feel of his hardness in my mouth, but I somehow hear 
him 
call my name.  I look up at him and our eyes meet.  With our gazes 
still 
locked, I make a big show of circling my tongue slowly around the head 
of 
his cock.  I moan and lick and suck him while he watches.  I want him 
to see 
and hear how hot it makes me just pleasing him.

His whole body shivers, but he won’t let himself come just yet.  
Breathing 
hard, he reaches down to pull me up to him and he crushes his mouth to 
mine, 
his tongue leaving no doubt as to how desperate he is.  He grabs the 
hem of 
my shirt, but with my arms around him, he can’t get it over my head.  
He 
grunts in frustration before grabbing at the neckline and ripping it 
down 
the center.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he growls, before leaning in to feast on my 
collarbone while one hand cups my breast, the other tangled up in my 
hair.  
I’ve never imagined this side of Harm, and it is driving me wild.  
Despite 
all his arrogance and bravado in the courtroom and the cockpit, I 
always 
thought he’d be gentle and tender in bed.  His roughness is a surprise, 
but 
definitely a nice one.  I know he would never hurt me, and if I got 
scared 
and asked him to stop, he would do so immediately.

He brings his hand from my hair down to my neglected breast, while his 
other 
hand continues to coax my nipple into a little brown pebble.  The 
sensations 
travel quickly down to between my thighs and I feel the wetness already 
gathering there.  Seeing and hearing Harm before turned me on so much 
he’s 
not the only one getting desperate now.

Harm proceeds to give my super-sensitive nipples the same delicious 
treatment I gave his, and I can’t stifle the moan he draws from me.

“Shhh,” he hushes.  “Let’s not wake the neighbors.”  But I feel him 
smile 
against my breast, and I know he’s proud of himself, that male pride 
that 
can only come from getting a woman aroused.

He moves in closer, pressing against me, the hard wall of his chest 
flush 
with my soft breasts, and he trails his hands from my sides down, down, 
down, to my hips, and he moves his hands back and forth from there to 
my 
waist.  So he likes that particular curve, does he?  I’ll have to 
remember 
to sway more deliberately when I walk around the office.

I wonder if Harm can read my thoughts, because just as I devise that 
way to 
tease him at work, his hand seeks out the warmth between my legs, 
distracting me completely.  I fight to keep my mouth closed as a soft 
moan 
escapes me.  He’s rubbing me back and forth with his whole hand, and oh 
God, 
I don’t think I’ll be able to keep quiet much longer.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers into my ear, his hot breath fanning 
my 
skin before he nips at my earlobe.

“Mmmhh . . .” The only reply I’m capable of is a whimper.

“I know something that will feel even better.”

Heaven help me, I’ll bet he does.  But so do I, and I reach down to 
grasp 
his manhood again and he gasps, practically falling against me.  But my 
sneak attack victory is short-lived and before I know it, Harm’s 
fingers 
reach under the waistband of my shorts and he pulls them off me, taking 
my 
panties with them.  Thank goodness, because those big cotton briefs 
aren’t 
exactly my sexiest pair.  We were coming here for an investigation; 
when I 
packed, I didn’t expect we’d be doing . . . this.

But here I am, completely naked except for my dog tags, which certainly 
don’t leave anything to the imagination.  Hmm . . . that gives me 
another 
idea.

Still standing against me, Harm reaches down between us and strokes me, 
gently at first but quickly picking up his speed and thrusting a long 
finger 
in and out of me, rubbing my swollen clit with every few swipes.  I 
start 
moaning and squealing again, unable to help myself, and Harm has to 
fuse his 
mouth to mine to keep me from crying out.

“Some other time, Sarah,” he tells me.  “Some other time, I want to 
hear 
you, but we can’t, not here.”

“I know,” I pant, “but you’re not helping.”

“Should I stop?”

“No!”

“Good,” he whispers against my lips.  “Because right now, the Commander 
in 
Chief himself couldn’t order me to.”

Well, two can play this game, so I’m not stopping either.  I pump my 
hand up 
and down his solid steel erection again.  No fair - he still hasn’t 
gotten 
his voice back, the lucky bastard.  Well, that’s okay.  Like he said, 
some 
other time.  Some other time I’m going to make him shout my name over 
and 
over again, loud and clear.

He leans his head down into the hollow of my shoulder, kissing and 
sucking 
savagely, the pain tempered by knowing I’m making him lose control.

“I want you so badly, Mac.  Please, Mac, now.”

I meet his eyes, smoldering with the passion igniting between us, about 
to 
become a raging inferno.  But before I forget, I remove my dog tags and 
drop 
them to the floor, the silencers muffling the “clink” they might’ve 
otherwise made.  Next I reach for Harm’s, raising the thin silver chain 
over 
his head.  I pull the silencers off and drape the chain around my own 
neck.  
Harmon Rabb, Jr., US Navy, like an ownership label.  Yes, Harm, I’m 
yours, 
and yours alone.

Harm looks at me, the question obvious in his eyes.  But he’ll get the 
picture soon.  Very soon.

I turn around and push him onto the bottom rack.  There’s hardly enough 
room 
for this, but I manage to just fit under the top one as I straddle him.  
I 
press his chest into the mattress with my hands as my mouth seeks out 
his 
flesh again.  He’s probably surprised by my aggression.  I’m a little 
surprised myself; this isn’t how I pictured our first time together.  
But we 
almost lost each other today.  We both almost died, and I can’t think 
of any 
better way than this to affirm life.  Besides, I don’t want gentle.  I 
don’t 
want soft and sweet.  We can make love some other time.  Tonight is 
about 
fucking - hard and fast and needy.

I rise up as much as I can without hitting my head on the top rack and 
I 
guide him into me, impaling myself on his endless length.  I relax and 
loosen up to take all of him in, and then I start to move . . .

------------------------------------------------------------------------

God Almighty, is there anything sexier in the universe than the sight 
and 
sound of my dog tags dangling between Mac’s perfect breasts as she 
rides up 
and down on my cock?  I should’ve known she was up to something when 
she got 
that devilish glint in her eye.  If I died right now, I’d die the 
happiest 
man on earth.

She’s so tight, so wet.  How have I possibly known this woman for three 
years without knowing this sensation, knowing the sweet grasp of her 
hot 
muscles?  And how the hell will I ever face her in court without 
wanting to 
throw her down on one of the tables and feel this again?

I grab hold of her hips, guiding her as I thrust up into her.  Her 
hands are 
braced on my shoulders and her eyes are closed and her head thrown back 
as 
she seeks and seeks the place we’re going to together.  But soon her 
nails 
dig into my skin and she rocks faster above me.

“Harder, Harm, please, harder.  Make me feel it.”

Holy shit!  Mac’s asking, no, begging, for me to really give it to her, 
and 
it’s driving me wild!  If she says one more word like that, I swear I’m 
going to shoot my load *right now* and there’s no way in hell I’m 
coming 
unless she’s right there with me.  And far be it from me to deny a 
request 
from a lady.  If Mac wants a good, hard fucking, that’s exactly what 
I’ll 
give her.

I pull her down to me and without breaking our intimacy, I roll us over 
until I’m on top, and I pound in and out of her for all I’m worth.  I 
hope 
she’s close because I’m about to explode.  My fingers reach out and 
latch 
onto one of her nipples, rolling and pinching it, and circling and 
circling 
the tawny ridges around it.  She starts moaning again, this time 
louder, and 
she reaches down to give her clit the attention it needs.  My wildest 
fantasies never prepared me for the sight of Sarah Mackenzie pleasuring 
herself.

Momentarily paralyzed, I watch her for a few seconds before my brain 
registers that it should be *my* fingers doing that.  I put my hand 
between 
us and Mac guides me, showing me exactly how she likes to be touched.  
Always the take-charge Marine, even here.

Her breathing becomes ragged as she uses my fingers to work herself 
into a 
frenzy.  Good, because I can’t hold out anymore.  I feel her muscles 
clenching around me, and that’s all it takes before my hot seed spills 
into 
her, my muffled cries mixing with hers, loud and savage.  Half of me 
wants 
to shush her before she gets both our asses court-martialed, but the 
other 
half . . . the other half wants to make her scream so loud every last 
guy on 
this sub will know I’m fucking the most beautiful woman in the world.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Completely exhausted, we just lay here, holding each other, caressing 
each 
other calmly as we fall back down to earth.  I don’t know what’s going 
to 
happen when we get back to Washington.  Hell, I don’t know anything 
beyond 
what we just did.  Harm promised he’d settle things with Jordan, and he 
never breaks a promise.  But still, I may not have him beyond tonight.  
So 
I’m going to hold on tight, hope this is a dream, and pray that I’ll 
never 
wake up.

But suddenly Harm moves to get up.

“No,” I insist, pulling him back to me.

“Mac-”

“Harm, stay.”

He takes my hand and kisses it.  “But what will we do in the morning?  
If 
someone sees me leave here . . .”

“I don’t care.  We’ll figure something out.  Just please, stay.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

There they are again, those big, sad brown eyes that I couldn’t refuse 
even 
if my life depended on it, or, in this case, both our careers.

“All right,” I tell her, “I’ll stay on one condition.”

“Anything.”

I flash her a smile.  “We move to the top rack so neither of us has to 
be in 
the wet spot.”

She returns with a bright smile of her own, and we climb up to the 
other bed 
and snuggle together under the blanket.  Mac’s right - we’ll figure out 
a 
way for me to sneak out of here tomorrow morning, and the rest, well, 
the 
rest we’ll figure out . . . somehow.


The end.