Part 1
Harm's
Apartment
North of Union Station
God, I feel like shit. My body feels like someone drove a truck over me and then backed it up just for fun. I can't ever remember being this sick. The whole week has been nothing but a total waste of time. Well, not a total waste. Our CO is alive and not nearly in as bad shape as when I found him. Especially since he has Meredith to "take care" of him. But now I have one hell of a bug of some sort. Pneumonia maybe? What ever it is I sure don't have anyone to take care of me.
Hopefully though, the worst is over, whatever it is. For the first two days something very nasty had a hold of me. Now my bones and muscles ache like hell. The only way I can stop my nose from running is to lay flat on my back. To keep my mind off the discomfort, I'm channel surfing on the new TV Webb left at my place, while I hack my lungs up and feel sorry for myself. Right now I'm watching a soap opera. How pathetic is that? If Mac ever knew she'd never let me live it down.
I'm grouchy when I get sick. I can admit it. I like to moan and groan and bitch and complain. My language gets resurected right up from the gutter and my "officer and a gentleman" attitude takes a nosedive straight into the toilet. It's probably a good thing I don't have a girlfriend right now, even though it would be nice to have someone bring me stuff. But there aren't enough drugs in the world that could ever make me wish that Renee was still here.
There's a knock at the door. Who the hell could that be? Fuck it, I don't want any visitors. I'll just ignore...there it is again. Damn it! I roll off the couch and wobble over to the door.
"Yeah?" I grunt.
"Hey, it's Mac! Got a care package for my sick best friend. Let me in!" she bellows.
Mac. Figures. I should have known she'd eventually show up. Her voice sounds so cheerful it makes me feel like losing what little I've been able to keep down today. "Hey yourself, Mac. I don't know if coming in here is such a good idea. I'm a mess, the place is a mess, and there's something very nasty loose in here."
"No way, Harmon. I'm not leaving till I give you this stuff. I don't care if you've got the Plague. Now open the damn door."
Oh well, I tried. Maybe she's got some homemade soup (I snort at the thought), or something for me to do besides sit here and slowly go insane. I crack the door open to let her in and cinch my robe as I head back over to the couch without waiting for her to enter.
* * *
Good! He let me in. I wasn't so sure he would. My poor sailor can be a tad reclusive when he's sick. But he's been holed up in here for days now and I was really starting to worry about him.
The door to his apartment appears to open on its own. "Hey, Harm!" I call cheerily, all the while knowing it's drives him nuts when I'm like this, before closing the door behind me and walking towards his kitchen. "Where the hell are you?" It's so damn dark in here I can't see anything.
"Over here on the couch. Dying." I hear a little coughing fit coming in the general direction of the living room area.
Good Lord! What a drama queen. I put the bag I'm carrying down on the counter and walk over to him. Harm is laying on the couch with his arm draped across his forehead, making no effort to greet me. He does look awful but still good enough to eat...well maybe not eat, but at least nibble on. Walking over to the end of the couch by his head I bend over I give him slight hug around the neck and a kiss on the side of the cheek. Don't want to get too close you know, just in case. His skin is warm but it doesn't feel like he has much of a fever anymore. "Good to see you're still breathing, partner."
"Jesus, Mac," he grumbles, but doesn't push my hands away. "Could you tone it down a bit. I'm hurtin' here."
"Geez, Rabb. I wasn't that loud." I laugh, not taking any offense. Harm is notorious for his bad moods when he isn't feeling well. But I have to admit he doesn't look good. His face is pale and he hasn't shaved in a while, his nose is red and chafed, and it doesn't help that he has a serious case of bed-head. Of course I still find him absolutely adorable. There is a collection of used kleenex in the waste can beside the couch, the box half empty on the coffee table- along with dirty dishes, empty seven up cans, newspapers and there's a big bowl - which I assume wasn't being used to make food - sitting on the floor next to him. Good thing I came over, I think to myself. He needs me.
"I'm sorry about the mess...and I must look like shit," he says after noticing me take inventory. Self consciously he starts to try and smooth down his wild hair. How cute is that?
"No problem, you poor sick baby," I say in my sassiest little girl voice. "That's what I'm here for. You have to have somebody take care of you. I've got some treats for you and I'll get your place cleaned up a bit while I'm here."
* * *
Amazingly I was right about the soup and Mac has brought me a couple of videos as well. Think she threw in "The Wedding Planner" as a hint I should get my love life together? I'm sure she brought that one for us to watch together, damn chick flick. The rest of the videos are okay though. She also brought me the latest copy of FHM, even though, in her words, it's "cheap, tasteless crap." But ever since seeing that half-naked layout of the that actress that reminds me so much of Mac, I've been hooked.
"Thanks, Mac. I was starting to go insane just flipping channels." I better show my appreciation before she kicks my ass.
She looks over at the television and I see the smirk spread across her face. "I can't believe you're actually watching a soap. This is too much. I'm gonna have to tell Sturgis and Bud."
"You better not..." I start to threaten before another coughing fit cuts me short. I don't want her telling our friends anything. It totally sucks that with us both working in the same place, we hang out with the same group. She knows almost everyone I know. Talk about your bad luck.
"God, you sound like you're gonna hack up a lung. Can I get you anything?" she asks, truly concerned.
"Some of that soup would be nice," I say, and then groan. "Damn it, I wish whatever the hell this is would just go away!"
"Soup coming right up," Mac practically sings as she disappears into the kitchen. The sound of pots being moved around makes me wince. I feel like I have a world class fucking hangover. Pulling my robe tighter around me, I can't help but feel a little self-conscious that it's all I'm wearing. Christ, I really am in no shape to play the gracious host. But what the hell, it's only Mac. She's seen me in worse condition. She's not expecting to be entertained. And not so long ago we saw each other naked. Okay, okay, almost naked.
I look over at her, buzzing around my kitchen and the smile spreads across my lips before I can stop it. I can't help remembering that day a couple of weeks ago when we both saw more of each other than we ever had before. And that's really saying something considering I saw her in that bikini she wore with Bugme on Manley Beach.
It was all perfectly innocent really. Mac was stuck over here late one night after one of our working dinners because of the abnormal winter weather that's been hammering D.C. this year. It was really bad out and I didn't think she had any business being out in the weather in her 'Vette, which then of course lead to the "I'm a Marine, I can handle it" speech. Well, needless to say, I won the argument.
She stayed and along with it I got one of the most spectaculars memories I've ever had. One I had only dreamed about before. Mac coming out of my shower and walking into my bedroom covered in nothing but "little raindrops" as Renee once put it. In actuality it was raindrops and a strategically placed towel just covering the front of her, the silhouette of her bare backside completely visible. She obviously hadn't expected me to be in there and I hadn't planned on being in there. I thought I could change and get out before she finished showering.
Nope. She caught me with my pants down, literally. Thank God I at least had my boxers on...well, not really on. They just happened to be wadded up along with a pair of sweats and strategically placed in front of me. We just stood there and stared at each other. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Feeling myself getting aroused by the beauty before me, I stammered an apology, not even bothering to hide my bare ass as I fled the room as fast as I could before she could see the effect she was having on me. Even now the image stirs something primal in me.
"It'll be ready in a few minutes," she says, coming back over to the couch, knocking me out of my memories. "So are you getting any better at all?"
"Nooo," I moan dramatically. "I stopped throwing up, and don't have the runs anymore, but I hurt all over."
* * *
I almost laugh out loud at Harm's predictable complaining. "Thanks for the very...um, vivid description." Harm snorts, acknowledging my disgust. Funny how a little bit of discomfort can turn a big, full-grown man into such a wimp. From my experience with past boyfriends, it seems to be a common transformation. "Come on, Harm, you were out in a blizzard. Tell me you didn't expect to at least get a cold."
"A cold, yeah; the Black Death, no."
Oh brother."Here," I say, getting down on my knees in front of the couch. " The soup won't be ready for a bit so let me give the poor, suffering invalid a little massage."
I give good massages. My ex-boyfriends and fiancé will vouch for that. And Harm definitely looks like he needs some kind of distraction. He rolls over onto his side slightly so that's where I start. I bend over and start kneading the base of his neck and shoulders.
"Uhh," he grunts when he feels the contact and his eyes close. Okay, this seems to be working.
I've always loved Harm's strong shoulders. I have a thing for good shoulders on a man. Nice, detailed shoulders. He's always had an incredible body, even when he looked like a "stickboy". Harm works out and you can tell. I push my finger tips up into the back of Harm's hair.
He grunts again, letting some of the tension drain out of his body.
"That's it," I coo at him. "Just relax and let me work out some of those aches and pains."
"Mmm-hmm," he murmurs.
He has a nice, strong neck too.
* * *
Oh...my...God...that feels good! I almost told Mac to stop at first. My skin has that super-sensitive, almost-raw feeling to it, but the pressure on my aching muscles feels incredible. Christ, how long has it been since I've felt a woman's touch? There is just something about that gentle-but-firm touch a man just can't reproduce. And a woman seems to know how to find all the right spots. Oohhh yes...her fingers going up the back of my neck sends a wave of sensation through me.
And then I notice the warmth in my groin.
Holy shit! I think I'm beginning to get an erection... and this loose robe is definitely not going to hide it or hold it back. Great! Just great. Mac will notice it I'm sure.
For a split second I hover in limbo, wanting her to continue, but thinking I should stop her because I am going to be embarrassed if I don't. And then, in one of those fateful moments where irreversible choices are made, I decide to stay still and do nothing about it. I'm going to get hard as a rock whether she stops or continues. So her touch is turning me on. So what? I'm sick, I feel like crap, and the massage feels soo good. If Mac can't handle it, well that's just too damn bad.
Somehow the decision speeds up my heart, which only makes me begin to throb and rise more quickly. All the feverish heat in my body seems to flood into my groin. Well that settles it; it's too late now because I'm already there.
I hold my breath as Mac leans over further, her kneading hands moving slowly down my chest. Then she stops abruptly and then starts again. Jesus! She must see what she's doing to me. It's not like I can hide it.
* * *
You can't imagine the weird sense of shock that comes over me when I see Harm getting hard. For some inexplicable reason I keep massaging him, even though I know I should probably stop. We haven't ever really talked about "us" and this could really complicate things later.
But I am absolutely fascinated by the rising tent in his robe, watching it get higher and higher with each stroke. I can actually see him grow larger with every heartbeat. I don't think I' ve ever had such a splendid view of any man before. From the first moment I touched his body it stirred, without me actually touching "it". In a strange way I'm flattered that just my slightest touch is having this effect on him.
And it just keeps on growing. My God, how big is it going to get? Is Harm going to let it get totally hard without even trying to hide it? He has to know I can see it! Or maybe he's too sick to notice... or care. Yeah right! Like he wouldn't notice...that.
A little, warm shudder runs through me. Suddenly I want to see how far he is going to let this go. How far can I push before he puts on the brakes like he always does? I guess we'll see. I lean forward just a bit more and slide my hands down his sides, around his waist and up then back up his chest, massaging his pecs. I can feel his breathing turn ragged and my own breath hitches in my lungs.
The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife...
* * *
"Ahhh, Mac..." I can't suppress a little moan of delight as Mac's hands begin rubbing my chest again. I'm still waiting for her to tell me I am a pig and pull away, because my arousal is blatantly obvious now.
It's then I realize I don't want her to stop because it just feels so damn good...so very, very good. I have been in hell for the last five days and now this. Pure heaven.
Her hands move outwards, gently nudging my robe apart. The terrycloth moves a bit to one side, inadvertently rubbing over the swollen, ultra-sensitive head of my cock. Oh God, I was not ready for that. The raw shock almost makes me sit bolt upright. She's going to do it. She really is going to do it. Almost as if reading my mind her hands stop and move back to the middle of my chest.
Okay this is new. Mac has seen me just about every way there is to see a person...but I'm pretty sure she's never seen me fully aroused. Is it possible she wants to? My mind just can't seem to wrap around the possibility that she might want to go through with this. It almost seems like too much to ask; that she wants me as much as I want her.
"Relax..." she whispers in my ear, her breath tickling my skin before pushing me back onto the couch. "Just let whatever happens happen, Harm."
Her words send a jolt of electricity throughout my body. Let whatever happens happen? I can't believe this. Her fingers are massaging my temples now, but they may as well be caressing my balls. There is now only one way this is going to end.
* * *
Wow! This is so...wow! So Jordan wasn't lying after all. I had originally wrote that whole conversation off as her vain attempt to make me jealous, which at the time it worked. But now...I can't help staring at the impressive piece of equipment straining up from his lap, barely hidden under his robe. It's bigger than anything I've previously had experience with. Briefly the thought flashes through my mind that I have no idea how in the hell im going to handle...that.
Okay, so now I'm getting turned on. My surprisingly un-shy partner knows I've seen his erection and he knows I'm not offended or going to stop this little game we've started. Poor "Mr. Bed-head" is obviously enjoying the pleasures of my massage a little too much to care about even trying to hide his reaction. At least I'm making him forget about his aches and pains...although it looks like other...um...parts of him must be aching now.
Oh what the hell am I doing?
I don't want to answer that question. I just want to feel his incredible body beneath my fingertips. So, instead of stopping I run my fingers through the hair on his chest, and this time I turn the heat up another notch and gently pinch his nipples..
"Oh Christ..." he grunts. "You have amazing hands, Mac."
"Well, you've got...some pretty amazing stuff there yourself, Harm," I say without thinking. All of a sudden my chest is tight. I feel my breath catch as my probing fingers slide over his ribs, close to the knot keeping his robe together. Hell, it isn't really tied at all, only cinched. It would probably come apart without much effort at all.
* * *
Okay. I can't be any more turned on than I am now. I'm as solid as a rock. That pinch to my nipples sent that final surge right up my shaft.
Now Mac's fingers are trying to nudge my robe apart again as they move lower. Not that it matters. I may as well be naked. The only thing left covered is my erection and it's certainly not hiding. For a split second I think she's going to slide her hands under my belt and make a grab for me, but they stop. My sudden disappointment makes me realize I actually want her to do just that.
I do...that's what I want. I want her to touch me. I want her to wrap her hand around me and jerk me off until I cum. Her fingers feel like fire on me, tracing that line of hair that leads right to where I want her. I can't help spreading my thighs wider. Go ahead, reach down and do it, Mac. Do it...
I don't dare open my eyes, breathe or speak for fear of breaking this spell that's weaving around us.
* * *
I smile when I see Harm's legs jerk apart. I love the little erotic rush of power that fills me when a man has become putty in my hands. It is suddenly very satisfying to have Harm at my mercy like this. I love him to death, but he has led me on for so long it's kinda nice to turn the tables for once.
I can't resist his open legs. "Don't move," I whisper the command, giving his chest one last squeeze and walk down to the end of the couch.
He doesn't move a muscle. In fact it looks like he's holding his breath...or maybe he's dead. Wouldn't that suck?! I quickly discover he is very much alive and well when I kneel down and slide my hands up the insides of his knees, smoothing my hands over the soft skin of his inner thighs. His whole body jumps at my touch, a deep grunt coming out of his mouth. But once again he makes no effort to stop me or push me away.
I gulp as I look between his thighs. My hands have lifted and spread the robe enough to see his balls. It looks as if he's about ready to explode.
The suspense is killing me. I have to see all of him. I feel his thighs quiver and shake as my fingers knead their way up.
* * *