Author: ColieMacKenzie
Subject: Soak It Up (HBX Challenge February 2008)

Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to Bellisarius Productions. I’m just borrowing them for my, and hopefully other people’s entertainment.

AN: I fear that my author’s notes might turn out longer than the actual story, LOL, and I’m sorry about that in advance. But I wanted to first apologize for not being around much these days, especially considering that I don’t seem to manage to put in responses to all the lovely stories posted here, even though I eventually read them all. So Thank you to all the wonderful writers on this board, for all the enjoyment you bring me!

I’d also like to give you a personal update: The reason I am not around much is that I moved and don’t have my own Internet access where I currently live. The reason I moved is that I found a job! I started working February 1st, and so far, I am really happy with how it is all going. I am now the executive assistant in a company that incidentally, almost spells ‘HARM’ and its logo looks like a pair of wings! If that wasn’t meant to be, then I don’t know what would. LOL.

Warmest thanks go out to Theresa, for all her help.

But now I’ll shut up and leave the talking to Harm and Mac. Please enjoy!

AN: My answer to the HBX February 2008 Challenge. Set somewhere in late season 7, during the ‘dating-without-calling-it-dating’ period. I am not sure if there truly is one, but for the purpose of this story, Mac’s apartment has a balcony.

o o o o o o

Soak It Up

It’s a Saturday when it finally happens. When I finally pulled my head out of my six, she will later playfully needle me about my epiphany.

I was dreaming about her again, as it so often happens these days. I wake up to a clear blue sky, with rays of sunlight tickling my face. Later today, it will be uncommonly warm for late February.

I rub my hands down my face, try to settle my mind back into my real life rather than the one of my dreams that was so much better. I am sweaty and aroused and frustrated, and I yearn for her as I’ve never yearned for anybody before.

As if the sun has finally infused some sense into me, it hits me:

I am not involved with Mac.

Why am I still not involved with Mac?

My mind races back to a chilly, star-lit night on a porch where I kissed her like I had never kissed a woman before. Where she kissed me back as if it was all she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
My crash and the heartbreaking night at my apartment when I couldn’t be there for her when she needed me most. Guilt still wracks through me when I think back to the look on her face, the sadness and hopelessness in her eyes, but I never told her that either.
I flash back on the weeks I spent waiting for her to come back, and my ill timed, misguided attempt of talking to her on the Guadalcanal.
My awful comments about her to Sturgis and then finally, us declaring another beginning.

All that is behind us now. In some ways, we did start afresh, yet in others we clicked right back into our old friendship, the way it was between us years ago, before things steered so critically off course.

We tease each other mercilessly, bicker and banter like an old married couple (at least how I think an old married couple might bicker and banter if they still like each other after 50 or so years of marriage). We go out together for lunch or dinner all the time, or go to the movies, and if one of us has an invitation somewhere, we naturally take the other.

And let’s be honest, we flirt like crazy. I give her my most disarming smiles, and I don’t even have to work on them because being with her just brings them out of me. Sometimes I feel like I’m melting inside when she looks up at me with these gorgeous big brown eyes that are shining with mirth, happiness, that teasing sparkle, and that touch of sensuality that is always with her.

For all intents and purposes, we are involved, in more ways than one. I might as well admit to myself what has remained unacknowledged by both of us for weeks, even months – we are dating.

Just not in the way that truly matters.

Feeling drained and weak, I drag myself out of bed and under the shower, where I wait for the chilly spray to revive my spirits.

I think I’ve been afraid to take this farther, but now I suddenly don’t know any longer why I am still afraid. I am not that dense when it comes to women, what they want, yet somehow I have never allowed myself to read what Sarah MacKenzie wants. If I do so, then her demeanor, the way she looks at me, smiles at me, would suggest that I am who Sarah MacKenzie wants.

Despite the cool water raining down on me, this particular thought makes me feel heated and flushed.

I hop out of the shower and towel off quickly. Then jump into a worn pair of jeans and a long-sleeved button-down shirt, grab a jacket and rush out of my apartment, not quite sure how exactly to go about it but simply knowing that I have to do something.

Because Sarah MacKenzie is also who I want, and it’s time that she finds out about it.

It is late morning by the time I arrive at her place, armed with fresh croissants that are still warm and fragrant in the paper bag, and two coffee creations from her favorite coffee place. The sun laughs gaily down at me, already bright enough to warm the top of my head and the leather of my jacket.

I climb the stairs two at a time and knock at her door with my heart almost beating out of my chest.

“Who is it?” Her voice floats through the door as if from far away.

“It’s me, Harm.”

“Oh, come on in.” It sounds like she is pretty excited that it’s me at the door, but that might just be wishful thinking.

I open the door and scan her apartment that at first glance appears empty. But then I notice that the door to her balcony is open, just before I catch a glimpse of a naked foot.

I find her laying in a deck chair on her balcony and immediately that melting sensation inside of me is back. From her feet that I noticed first, my gaze slowly wanders up her stretched out form, taking in the beauty of her basking in the sun.

She’s wearing a pair of chocolate brown velvet sweat pants, but has rolled up the pant legs high over her knees. She also rolled up her sleeveless shirt in the middle so her belly is exposed as well. Her face is turned toward the sun, with a pair of huge sunglasses perched on her nose. The dark skin of her lower legs sparkles golden in the yellow rays of the winter sun, and the way I heat up has nothing to do with the unusual warmth of the day.

“Good morning, Mac,” I greet her, my voice smiling at her. “What are you doing?”

Remaining turned toward the sun, she sighs blissfully. “I’m catching the first rays of sun.”

But then she turns her head toward me and slides her sunglasses off her nose. She quirks up what is my favorite eyebrow, and her beautiful eyes sparkle when she sassily invites me, “Want to join me?”

Her looks and voice are so sexy that parts of me are waking up that should not be waking. At least not yet. I have a brief notion of retreating, of reverting back to our usual ways, but then I take her in once more and remember why I came by in the first place.

“Sure,” I wink back at her, but instead of pulling up the extra deck chair that is leaned against the wall, I advance toward her. Her eyes go wide when I push her to the side and try to squeeze myself next to her into the narrow chair.

“Harm,” she huffs playfully, her voice hovering between a yelp and a giggle, when she hangs half out of the chair over the arm rests because of my efforts. As soon as I’m somewhat settled, I reach for her and pull her back and over. She comes to rest stretched out on top of me, her back against my front, with her head just below mine leaning against my neck. My heart is beating wildly at the realization that she doesn’t seem to mind her new position for one second.

She wiggles to get more comfortable, and I barely manage to stifle the groan that is rumbling through me when her sensual body moves on top of me.

“You won’t catch a lot of sun like this,” she points out dreamily.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less if it were hailing, now that I finally have her in my arms. I wrap my arms around her middle and settle my chin on top of her head.

“I’d rather catch a lot of you.”

And just like that, playful banter has turned into so much more. She tenses in my arms, and I hold her just a little tighter while I breathlessly wait for her answer to what I just revealed. She takes a deep breath, then one, two more. Then turns her head, looks up into my eyes.

“Is that what you want, Harm? Catch me?”

The apprehension in her eyes, the wistfulness in her voice almost break my heart.

“No,” I start speaking, but immediately know that I started out wrong when her eyes drop. I quickly reach for her chin and tilt her head back up so she’d look at me again. So she can see in my eyes what I feel while I tell her with words.

“Sarah…,” I whisper her name and I can hear her breath catch in her throat. “I don’t want to have to catch you. I was hoping you would want to be where I am, willingly.”

Still came out all wrong and hopelessly convoluted, yet the look in her eyes stops any words that might still be residing in my throat. Instead I just watch her, watch the emotions flitter across her face, wait breathlessly, heart beating in my throat.

And then she smiles, and I feel as if the sun has added a few notches of shine, just for the two of us. It’s a soft, longing smile that warms my insides like the sun never could.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Yes, she is. She is here, in my arms, in my heart. Always in my heart.

“Mac,” her name bursts out of me like a pledge, a yearning finally given voice to. And her smile turns up several notches. She lifts her hand, trails her fingers across my brow, down my cheek, almost reverently taking me in. My skin prickles from the heated path drawn by her fingertips.

When her index finger trails across my lips, I catch it between them, sucking it softly into my mouth. I watch enthralled as her eyes flutter closed, her lips open with the force of a yearning breath rushing out of her chest.

I reach for her hand, entwine her fingers with mine while I pull her closer. Reveling in the anticipation for a few desire-drenched seconds, I look at her moistened lips glistening in the sunlight, before I slowly capture her lips with mine.

She’s soft, oh so soft against me, warm and welcoming. I kiss her slowly, drinking in each new sensation as she opens up to me, answers each of my forays with one of her own. I pull her a little closer and she turns in my arms until we are laying belly to belly, one of her legs tangled between mine. Her breasts crushed against my chest send a heated rush of arousal through every part of me, and like a match struck on fire, our kiss turns more passionate, desire crackling between us like sparkly fireworks.

She pulls away after some time, just slightly. Gasping for every breath. “We should move this inside,” she murmurs against my lips, then moans when my fingers trail up along the warm, incredibly silky, naked skin along her waist. “Don’t wanna…mmhh…give the neighbors…a show…”

There’s nothing I want more… except to finally tell her unmistakably what I feel.

“I love you. I’m so in love with you.”

Her eyes fly open, stare at me. They roam over my face, then come back to mine. Soaking me up, drinking me in. There is suspicious moisture pooling in the chocolate warmth of her eyes, and I smile at her tenderly making sure she knows I meant every word.

She sighs, and it’s wistful and content and delighted and everything in between. Looks at me with her heart in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

I feel wistful and content and delighted and everything in between. As if I’m drowning in her, and yet the wave of panic that I expect to hit me at any moment, never comes. She moves closer again, touches her lips to mine. Despite the explosive passion and desire that flared up between us a few minutes ago, she kisses me tenderly, and I wrap my arms tightly around her.

She settles in my embrace and we kiss, with the unusually warm February sun dipping us in yellow warmth.

We have all the time in the world.

THE END