Title: Weekend (1/1)

Author: Anna Claire (AnnaClaireJAG@hotmail.com)

Rating: NC-17 (for nothing but plot-less smut)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the JAG characters, DPB does, I am not 
making 
any
money, DPB does, I don't mean any copyright infringement.
Summary: Mac and Harm leave for the weekend, just a weekend, to get to 
know 
each
other better

Spoilers: Nothin

Author's Notes: This is my first smut so I'm sorry if it's a little 
awkward 
in places.  I
wrote this for Lessa after she complained one night that there hadn't 
been 
any smut
posted recently on the JAG lists, that was a few months ago, I said I'd 
write something.
Well, I wrote this in about an hour, then let it sit on my computer for 
awhile before I let
anyone read it.  Then, I had it betaed, then I let it sit longer, then 
I 
completely ignored it,
then . . . well then a friend who doesn't even watch JAG read it told 
me to 
post it or else.
So here it is.  Thank you Barb for betaing this, and working with me 
through 
it, you were
very kind.



Weekend 1/1

With trepidation, you follow him into the hotel.  This is stupid; you 
think 
to yourself,
what am I doing?  Yet, you still follow him.  Hanging back at his left 
shoulder, you let
him do the talking. Yes that is it, perhaps if you don't say or look at 
anything the
knowing clerk won't think anything of this.  Who do you think you are 
kidding?  Of
course, behind that counter, the middle aged man with the eastern 
European 
accent
knows exactly what is going on.  What's worse, he probably thinks you 
are 
one of those
high end, well paid, whores.  He thinks you dress in Chloé, sip 
expensive 
wine, hang on
the arms of politicians and businessmen, but still belong to the 
world's 
oldest profession.

That's it, keep your eyes on your feet, on your sandals, on the 
sandstone 
leather sandals
with the cute little buckles.  He turns around and looks at you with 
those 
blue eyes.  'Are
you ok?' they seem to ask. 'Yes, I am ok,' your eyes reply.  I am ok, I 
don't know how or
why, but I am ok.  He turns back to smile and nod at the clerk, 
thanking 
him.

You let your eyes slip down his back and rest on his ass for just a 
moment 
as he bends
down to pick up the small carry on suitcase he let drop on the floor 
next to 
him.  Your
eyes snap back to the smirking face of the hotel clerk.  Laugh, 
smart-ass, 
laugh, you
think, and mark me with that scarlet letter.

Your bag, clutched in your right hand, has never left your side, as if 
your 
very life
depended on its plain black exterior.  Perhaps it does. You follow him, 
with
apprehension, across the hotel lobby, looking down at his hand swinging 
against his leg
in a natural walking rhythm.  Yes, you tell yourself, stare at his 
hand, and 
try not to think
about what this means.

***"What's wrong?  Are you scared?"***

Scared?  No, not you.  You are terrified, so terrified you begin 
thinking 
about how far
you can get if you turn around and run right now.  You have your bag 
weighing you
down, and you know you can't drop it, it has your belongings in it.  
Your 
shoes are
sandals, with a bit of a heel, cute, but never made for running.  You 
stop 
with him at the
elevator doors.  Don't stare into your reflection in bright, polished 
metal. 
  Stare at the
random marble pattern, stare at your shoes, stare at his shoes, stare 
anywhere but at you –
at the two of you.

***"Come on!  It'll be fun.  A weekend, just the two of us, away from 
here, 
away from
everything familiar."***

Silence in the elevator, silence except for the sound of the machinery 
and 
the ding bell at
each floor.  They are deafening to you, louder than you have ever 
noticed 
before.  Say
something, just say something, just to break the moment, oh just say 
something, you
silently beg him, but he doesn't.

The doors open on your floor and you follow him down mirrored hall.  
You can 
see your
bare legs reflected in the mirrors.  Left, pass the ice machine.  Bare 
legs, 
with the knee-
length swish of fabric and those cute sandals.  His khaki legs, with 
the 
chestnut colored
shoes, walking in time with yours.  See how your muscles move under the 
skin 
of your
legs?  Muscles that tell of your miles running; toned, tanned, legs.  
Naturally tanned, no
creams, sun, or oils for you.  Smooth legs that were waxed, only 
yesterday.  
Oh yes, you
knew you'd be here, you're prepared, you accusingly tell yourself.  
Your 
toes are painted,
your legs are smooth, your nails are filed, and your eyebrows were 
waxed.  
You
prepared, you knew.

***"We can answer those questions, the questions that we both know we 
ask.  
I think it
would be good, for both of us."***

He stops at the door, 415, and inserts the card key.  Green light, go, 
proceed, it is safe,
move forward, it is ok.  He removes the card and pushes the door open.  
As 
you walk
behind him you paused before stepping across the threshold.  Before you 
can 
stop it, you
flinch, he notices.

"We don't have to do this," he says softly, the first thing he has said 
to 
you in ten
minutes and thirty-four seconds.  You shake your head no.  No, but to 
what?

He sets his bag down on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room 
and 
turns to look
at you.  One bed, one single bed, it knows what you came here to do, 
the 
clerk knew,  the
man standing in front of you knows.  He reaches down and takes your bag 
from 
your
hand.  You don't realize how tightly you were holding it until you have 
to 
pry your
fingers loose.  It's gone; you have nothing to clutch in your hand now, 
nothing to hang on
to.  He sets it down on the bed next to his.  Two overnight bags, side 
by 
side, on a lone
bed, inside a hotel room.  No one knows the two of you are here, no one 
but 
the smirking
hotel clerk, and each other.

"Do you want to go?" he asks.  "We can just turn around and go back and 
pretend this
never happened."  You reply with a shake of your head.  You don't want 
to 
go, you are
scared, no terrified, but you want to be here.  How do you tell him you 
ache 
to be here?

***"Come on, just the two of us.  We'll get a hotel room; spend the 
weekend 
in New York
City.  I'll even take you shopping."***

You hear him sigh.  No, don't, you think to yourself.  Don't shut off, 
don't 
go away, I'm
sorry, just don't leave, I'm so sorry.  You want to be here, you really 
do, 
you just don't
know how to show him.

Tentatively you take one step forward, covering half the distance 
between 
the two of you.
Then you take another.  Your toes are even with his toes, you can feel 
the 
heat of his
body near yours.  You don't actually touch him, but you can feel him, 
as if 
he was inside
of your skin.  Carefully you lift your arms and place your palms 
against his 
dark blue
button up shirt.  The cotton is soft against your palms, but you don't 
pay 
attention to it as
you feel the muscles quivering underneath.  You slide your hands up the 
shirt, following
them up with your eyes.  You have never touched him so possessively 
before.  
He has
gathered you into his arms and you have placed your hands here in the 
past, 
but never
have you taken the initiative and done this by yourself.  You smile to 
yourself when you
think of the irony.

***"Don't laugh; I am being serious here.  We can spend a weekend away, 
you 
know,
getting to know each other."***

Your hands continue a journey and they slide up to his neck in unison.  
The 
tips of your
index fingers brush behind his ears and then follow the rest of your 
hand as 
you take his
jaw and tilt it down.  Your eyes are focused on his mouth, coming 
closer to 
yours, letting
you pull it down to yours.

The dry softness of his lips press against yours, is so soft, so 
fleeting, 
so unsure, so like
you.  Pressing bit harder into his mouth, you feel him respond in turn.  
You 
can feel his
hands move to your hips, holding you; feel each finger as it presses 
into 
your skin
through the material of your skirt.  He is still letting you take the 
initiative though; you
are guiding this situation

Letting your hands slip up behind his neck, you press closer to him.  
He 
responds, just
like you hoped he would, by wrapping his arms around you and pulling 
you 
close.  You
angle your head, to adjust to his height, and tentatively you let your 
tongue slip out as
you open your mouth.  He falters, for just a second, before his mouth 
opens 
and lets your
tongue in.  His mouth is warm, and velvety, and tastes just like you 
remember it from that
cool night in May on the Admiral's porch.  He kisses you back, letting 
his 
tongue slip
against yours and invade your mouth.

"I want to be here," you whisper against his mouth when you both break 
for a 
breath of
air.

"Then why are you so nervous, what's wrong?" he responds.

"I'm just so scared," you say so softly, wondering if he even heard 
you.

"Of what?" he sounds like he already knows, but he wants to hear it 
from 
you.  Why isn't
he as scared as you?

"Of everything."  You are scared of everything and nothing at the same 
time. 
   You are
terrified about what this means, about what the single queen sized bed 
in 
the hotel room
in New York means, about what kissing him like this  means, of the 
future 
and what that
means.  What if he will see you naked and run screaming in the other 
direction, what if he
decides after a weekend that you aren't worth it and that he never 
wants to 
talk to you
again?  But, most of all, you are terrified that you will fall in love; 
fall 
deeper than you
already are.

***"I know we know each other, but I meant, really getting to know one 
another.  You know,
like that."***

"Don't be afraid," he whispers after pressing a kiss to your lips.  
"I'm 
scared about this
too."

Pulling back, you look him in they eye with a sort of half grin.  You 
don't 
believe him.  It
is the first time you have looked at him in the eye since  agreeing to 
come 
to New York.
He smiles down at you, softly, and chuckles before pulling you tight 
against 
him,
pressing your head against his chest.  You can hear his heart beating 
erratically in his
chest and feel him trembling softly against you.  He is scared too.

Again you pull back, but this time you press the back of his head down 
to 
yours again.
The kiss turns from soft and exploring into hungry and demanding.  You 
want 
more of
him, and you kiss him hard and he responds back.  He tightens his hold 
on 
you,  pulling
you close.  His hands slide up your ribcage and grip, his thumbs 
resting 
against the swell
of your breasts.  You slip your hands from behind his head, and slide 
them 
back down the
same path they had taken moments before.  Stopping at the first button 
of 
his shirt, you
slide it out of its hole.

The next one slips free as you work your way to the third, and his 
hands 
meet yours as he
pulls back and questions, "Are you sure?"

Nodding, you bite your bottom lip.  You want this, and you know he does 
too. 
  You reach
up and kiss his jaw.  Letting your tongue trail along his jaw, you 
reach his 
earlobe and
you such that into your mouth, holding it softly in your teeth.

He groans in disappointment as you move your attention from his ear to 
the 
third button
on his shirt, concentrating on slipping the tiny pearl colored buttons 
from 
their holes.  His
hands go to the collar of your denim jacket, sliding down your neck and 
upper back,
pushing it off your shoulders.  He ducks his head to your neck, 
nuzzling 
softly and you
sigh in pleasure.

"If this isn't what you want, you had better stop now," he breathes as 
you 
undo the last
button on his shirt and pull it out of his pants.

"I want," you say as you bite the skin of his jaw gently.  "I want 
you," you 
whisper as
your lips slide up to his ear.  "I want you now," you breathe into his 
ear, 
just before you
bite down on the lobe and pull gently.  He responds by wrapping his 
arms 
around you
tight, groaning, and burying his face in the crook of your neck.  You 
grin 
as you feel his
arousal press into your stomach.  He wants you too.

As you push his shirt off his shoulders, he reaches for the buttons on 
yours 
and beings
undoing them. He pauses for a brief second to let you push his shirt 
down 
his arms and
onto the floor. His palms press against your flat stomach after he 
pushes 
your shirt off
your body and looks down at you with piercing eyes.  You look up at 
him; he 
dips his
head and gives you the sweetest, softest kiss.  His fingers dip under 
the 
elastic waistband
of your skirt pushing it off your hips and letting it fall the rest of 
the 
way.  His fingers
graze your skin where the elastic of your underwear presses into your 
lower 
abdomen.
He steps back and looks you up and down, his burning gaze raking over 
your 
body.

It's unfair; he is still standing there in his undershirt, pants, and 
shoes. 
  You reach for his
belt; he lets you, but still continues to look at you.  You undo the 
belt, 
unbutton his pants,
and push them down his hips, leaving his boxers in place.  He steps 
back and 
toes his
shoes off before stepping all the way out of the pants.  You can see 
his 
erection straining
in the green cotton boxer shorts, you can see the hard planes of his 
chest 
under the
undershirt and suddenly you want nothing more than to touch him.

You reach for the shirt, running your hands up underneath it first, 
palms 
feel up his
ribcage, over his hardened nipples, down his stomach, and ending at the 
top 
of the
waistband of his boxers.  He is still staring at you, letting his arms 
hand 
at his side.  His
breathing is deep, but uneven, just like yours.  You can see your chest 
heaving.  You slide
your hands up his chest again, this time bringing the shirt with them 
and 
you pull it all the
way off.  Lifting his arms into the air to aid you, you pull the shirt 
off 
and look up into his
eyes.  He still has that same piercing look.

He wraps his arms back around you, pulling you against him.  Without 
the 
pants, or your
skirt or shirt you can feel him, oh god can you feel him, you think 
wildly.  
You can feel
the deliciousness of warm flesh against warm flesh.  You can feel his 
erection press into
your stomach and it sends a rush of warmth between your legs.  He 
presses 
you back over
his arm and dips his head.  He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, 
then 
slides his lips
down to kiss the top of your breast, where it spills out of your bra.  
His 
other hand
reaches up and cups your other breast in his hand and you gasp aloud as 
his 
thumb
quickly passes over the nipple.  You can feel him smile into your chest 
as 
he licks the line
where your flesh meets the bra.  You throw your head back and he moves 
up to 
kiss
along your neck, alternating soft licks with light nips from his teeth.

Lifting your head, you duck out of his grasp with a giggle as he finds 
a 
sensitive spot on
your neck.  He smiles down at you, not offended at all.  Boldly, you 
push 
him towards the
bed with a grin.  He takes steps back and sits down on it, holding your 
hips.  Shaking
your head, your grin turns impish as you push him back onto the 
mattress.  
He chuckles
and falls onto his back..  Caught up in the game, he pulls you on top 
of 
him, pausing for a
second before rolling you underneath him.  He balances his weight on 
his 
forearms and
presses his hips into yours, making his intent as to where exactly he 
wants 
this game to
go next obvious.  He dips his head, kissing you softly at first, then 
much 
more deeply.

He reaches with one hand underneath you and unclasps your bra before 
pulling 
it off of
both shoulders.  Tossing it aside, he looks down at your breasts before 
dipping his head to
he can reach them with his mouth.  His tongue circles your nipple 
before he 
pulls it into
his mouth, sucking, and lets it slide out through his teeth.  You gasp, 
throw your head
back, and push your chest up further, unconsciously seeking his mouth.  
He 
drifts further
down your stomach, licking and kissing his way down to your belly 
button, 
then along
the place where your panties rest along your hips.  Sticking his 
fingers 
under the
waistband and pulls them down.  You lift up your hips to let them slide 
over 
your ass.
His palms follow the panties down your ass and all the way down your 
legs 
before he
pulls them all the way off and tosses them in the general vicinity of 
your 
bra.  He looks
up at you from down by your knees, you raise your head to look at him.  
You 
smile softly
and crook your finger at him and give a 'come hither' look, and he 
does.

As he crawls up your body, you reach for his hips and carefully push 
his 
boxers off his
hips, over his erection, and down his legs.  He pauses for a second to 
kick 
them off before
sitting up and taking his socks off.  Now you are both naked, lying on 
top 
of the hotel bed
together.  Rolling back on top of you, he presses his erection against 
your 
center and
kisses you deeply.

You slide your hands over his shoulder, raking your nails down his 
back.  He 
groans and
presses harder to you.  You push on his shoulders, rolling him and you 
climb 
on top of
him, sitting on his hips, letting his erection press against your 
backside.  
His hands
immediately go for your stomach, moving up your ribs before they cup 
your 
breasts.  He
brushes both thumbs over your hardened nipples at the same time.  You 
bite 
your bottom
lip, looking down at him.  Looking at you and smiles he pulls on your 
nipples, making
you moan low in your throat as you bend down and nip his ear.  He 
throws his 
head back
and gasps.  Turn about is fair play, isn't it?

He lets you kiss his neck, moving down to his chest where you nuzzle 
down, 
biting his
nipples gently, before you nuzzle down to his belly button.  His 
stomach 
contracts and
moves underneath your lips.  You hold yourself up with your legs, and 
let 
your hands
reach down and grasp him all at once.  He lets out a moan from deep 
within 
his throat and
presses hard into your hands.  Letting go, you let your fingers trail 
up to 
the head.  A gasp
that sounded a lot like "Sarah" escapes from his clenched teeth.  
Abruptly 
he sits up and
pulls you to him, kissing you hard.

"You keep that up, and I won't last," he growls into your mouth.  You 
smile 
against his
lips and then immediately cry out as you feel his finger slide along 
your 
moist slit.

"Oh God," you cry out.  Damn, he's sneaky.  His thumb joins his finger, 
pressing against
your clit as his middle finger slides into you.  You cry out again and 
he 
presses his lips
into your shoulder.  You are gripping his shoulders, pressing your 
fingers 
tight into the
muscles there.  You are ready for him, more than ready.  You feel an 
ache, 
deep within
your belly; that can only be quenched by his presence, deep within you, 
thrusting.

He withdraws his fingers.  When did he get two in there?  He lays you 
back 
on the bed
and then turns to his overnight bag still sitting on the edge of the 
bed.  
He opens it and
you see the muscles in his back working as he reaches in and removes a 
foil 
packet a box.

You sit up and reach over his shoulder, taking the packet out of his 
hand 
and sheathe him.
He rolls back over you and you look up at his face.  You reach down and 
guide him to
your opening.

It feels so good; you bite your bottom lip and moan deep in your 
throat.  He 
leans down
and kisses your neck as he withdraws and the slowly pushes in again.  
You 
look at him
again.  This time he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue 
inside 
your mouth as he
presses into you, speeding up his pace.  You rock your hips in time 
with 
his.  You cry out
again and again as he plunges deeper and deeper.  You bite your lip, to 
hold 
back.  He
stills for a second.

"No, don't hold back.  I want to see you, to feel you" he tells you.  
He 
props himself up
on his arms and presses deep within you.  He then lifts one hand up and 
moves it down to
where the two of your are joined.  You cry his name aloud as he presses 
a 
finger against
your clit.  You are so close, and you tell him that.  He puts his hand 
on 
your thighs and
pulls them up, angling so he can reach deeper.  As he presses hard 
against 
you he brushes
your clit again and you cry aloud, moaning his name as you feel the 
tremors 
deep within
you.  The flood of warmth washes over you, all the way to the tips of 
your 
fingers and
toes.  Your head is in the clouds and your skin feels like it has grown 
a 
million new nerve
endings.  You feel his hot breath, his lips, his tongue press into your 
neck.

He picks up the pace again, and it is only a few hard thrusts later 
when you 
feel him tense
and then quiver within you.  You can feel his spasms and hear him 
whispering 
your
name.

You run your palms along his sweat sheened back.   He lifts his head up 
and 
looks at you,
still struggling to control his breathing.  You are too.  He kisses you 
hard, claiming you.
Reaching down to hold the condom on, he rolls off of you and disappears 
into 
the
bathroom.  He emerges a few seconds later and walks towards you and you 
admire his
naked body.  Pulling you up off the bed, he pulls down the covers, and 
sits 
down on the
white sheets, pulling you against him.  He kisses your stomach once and 
the 
turns you to
lay on the bed.  He wraps himself around you, holding you and you 
cuddle 
into him.  As
you relax you can feel him trailing his fingers over your sensitive 
skin.

His fingers still, his breathing even out, and he relaxes completely 
against 
you, drifting to
sleep.  You smile softly to yourself and then surrender as well.

The End