Author's Note: Good evening, everyone. Thanks for sticking to the end with me on this one and for this fandom in general. I'm not saying that I won't ever return to the IPS sandbox but I can safely say that it will be awhile. I've been bitten by new fandom bugs and I've got an AU for a Criminal Minds canon event that pissed me off and made me bawl like a baby buzzing around in my skull. Not to mention the other fics I have to finish…my point is that I'm letting the cane hook me and drag me off the stage. But not forever. Thanks again for your support and patience and I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. With love, ~*CMW2*~
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
If anyone asked, Mary Shannon would say that the absolute worst thing about her relationship with Marshall Mann was that it was the complete opposite of normal.
If anyone asked, Mary Shannon would say that the absolute best thing about her relationship with Marshall Mann was that it was the complete opposite of normal.
The best example of the latter was the fact that right then, she was on top of his desk, clutching onto his arms as he kissed, suckled, and did something absolutely sinful with teeth to her neck. Marshall was standing between her parted knees and her hips met him halfway in a slow, denim frictioned grind. Their lips met again and both of them moaned loudly, tongues and teeth clashing, dueling, dancing…
He broke the kiss and Mary captured his lower lip in her teeth tugging gently as he pulled her flush against him. It had been 4 months since they formally made peace and they slowly pieced their friendship back together. No, not back together, into something better. While they were still 'Mary and Marshall' of old, with sniping and random trivia, there was a softer side to her and a firmer side to him. He didn't hesitate to reel her in when the banter became bitter and she was much more conscious of his feelings and the direct effect her actions had on them. It was still a close bond but a much more balanced one.
And Marshall had decided to court her. Old school, throwback, straight face court her. There were real dates and he had become a fixture at her dinner table every Saturday, much to everyone's delight, especially Norah.
Her first word had been Marshall.
In response to his courtship, she had helped him find a new place and make it his own with paint and sledgehammers. There had been a lot of conversation, laughter (god, she had missed the laughter...) and kissing. A whole lot of really good kissing but both of them had been resolute in taking it slow. Slow was good. Slow was needed. Slow was…slow was certainly out the window tonight.
Her dark gray v-neck was pulled over her head and his black blazer hit the floor. She unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt and her bare heels dug into the small of his back, glad that they had both ditched their footwear. It was less to take off, less to get out of the goddamned way so they could feel each other's skin. She wanted skin.
Belts were undone, jeans pulled off, his undershirt torn (and no, she was not getting him a new one, damn it…), her pink bra pulled over her head, his black boxer briefs yanked down and chucked onto the file cabinet, her red bikinis joining them, and finally skin. God, his skin, his body, his scent, just him in general…
Desk accessories hit the floor as he moved them forward but both of them ignored the wreckage for more kissing, for exploring palms and fingers. They ended up flat on the surface and she looked up at him, meeting his gaze.
"I want you."
"Get inside me."
"Protection?"
"IUD."
"Do you want me to use…"
"…I want to feel all of you. I want all of you. Give me all of you."
Marshall pushed inside of her slowly but firmly, both of them shuddering and moaning as her body welcomed his. Like she had seen in countless movies, his hand slid into hers, his fingers fitting into the spaces between hers and she held on with white knuckle intensity.
Mary never wanted to let go of him.
Ever.
FIN.