A/N: Here's chapter 7. Didn't realize this story was going to be this long, but as I map it out in my head the number of chapters continues to increase. Thanks for reading. As a reminder, rated NC-17 for adult content, strong language, and sexual situations.

Delicate

Chapter 7: Your Kiss

1942 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac collapsed on Harm's chest, shuddering with passionate release. She could hear his heart pounding underneath her ear, his chest hairs tickling her cheek. This, their second go round of the evening, was just as intense as the first. Harm seemed to instinctively know what would make her scream, moan, and come. And come. Multiple orgasms had merely been a myth to her before. Now, with his deft touch, his near perfect manhood, and the utter abandonment of both of them, she found herself riding wave after wave of intense pleasure, clutching at him and shouting his name. It was no different tonight. Her body spasmed as another jolt went through her, this time moaning out his name in multiple syllables. She felt him press his hips up into her as his hands went around to cup her six. His pubic bone was now tight against her hyper-stimulated clitoris. The man was just too good at this.

She pushed up with her arms, indulging in the heady sensation of running her hands up his ribcage then back down to his stomach to tease it with her fingertips. She could feel that he had lost weight as well, but his muscles were still as well-developed as ever. Perhaps even more so, she thought as she raked her fingernails over his pecs and down to the magnificent six pack that defined his abdomen. Mac moved her hands up again to weave her fingers through his chest hair. Harm's eyes were closed but his breath hissed in and his stomach muscles twitched at her caresses. She smiled as goosebumps appeared along his arms.

Harm certainly possessed incomparable skill in the bedroom, but she was no slouch either during these carnal encounters. The man she once accused of being a prude could let out a string of creative pillow talk, describing what he would like to do her in very inventive and descriptive detail. The moment he felt her wetness on his fingertips or the moment she turned the tables on him and took his girth into her hand, he would paint such a picture with his words that even a marine would blush.

Mac was about to slide off of him when she realized that the hurried dressing she'd applied to her left middle finger had fallen off. It was oozing blood again and as the glow from their most recent sexual escapade wore off, she realized it still hurt like hell. She gasped in pain as she touched it lightly with the tip of her right index finger.

Harm's eyes flew open. "Mac?"

"It's nothing." She lifted her self off of him and sat facing him on her knees. "Just a little cut on my finger." The damn thing was really bleeding now, a few drops landing on her sheets. Dammit.

Harm sat up quickly, his arm shooting out to take her injured hand in his. He turned it over and saw the bloody gash. "Jesus, Mac. A little cut? You're bleeding like a stuck pig!" He grabbed a tissue from the night stand. "How long ago? Don't you think you should've gotten stitches?" Mac winced as Harm pressed the tissue into the wound.

"It does not need stitches!" She rolled her eyes at him, bouncing up a bit as he vaulted off the bed. He reached his hand out to her.

"If you say so. Come on. We can at least get a proper dressing on it." He practically dragged her off the bed, grumbling as he lifted the tissue away from the still oozing laceration. "And did you even clean it out? The damn thing is liable to get infected!" He moved them into her bathroom and started digging in the drawers and cupboards.

"Dammit, Harm! I didn't just get shot by some deranged poacher. It's just a little cut!" He held up one finger to silence her and motioned her toward the toilet.

"Sit down. Don't move." Mac rolled her eyes again, but did sit down on the closed seat.

"Okay, Florence Nightingale."

He glared at her in exasperation. She almost giggled at him but then remembered they didn't do that anymore—no banter, no jokes. She sighed. "Fine." She shivered a bit, the cool air on her naked skin and the chill of the toilet seat seeping into her. He grabbed a fluffy towel off the rack and draped it across her shoulders before turning to leave the room. He gave her a full view of his magnificent nude six and she fought down the urge to lean forward and bite it before he walked out. Just a little nibble.

She heard him rummaging around her kitchen, along with a few muffled curses and slamming of drawers. Then he was back with her first aid kit.

"You moved your kit," he said, almost accusingly, as he set it on the bathroom vanity. He opened it and started removing gauze, ointment, antiseptic and tape.

Mac only shrugged. Truthfully, she hadn't needed it in so long that she had forgotten where she moved it to. Kudos to him for actually finding it. Come to think of it, she didn't even remember where she used to keep it. Impressive, Rabb.

Harm grabbed her hand and lifted her off the toilet. He moved her over to the sink, turning her around so they both faced the mirror. His arms went around her from behind and he turned the water on, checking it for temperature. Once satisfied, he took her left hand in his, drawing it under the flow of the faucet. As soon as the water hit her injured finger, she winced and sucked in a breath, closing her eyes.

"Sorry," he whispered into her hair. He pulled her in even closer to him, pressing a kiss to her scalp.

Her eyes flew open at the tenderness of the act, meeting his in the mirror. His beautiful blue-gray eyes locked onto hers, and for a few beats they just stared at each other. Her lips fell into a tiny 'O' of surprise. He looked away first, but not before Mac noticed a new warmth seeping into them. For a moment he looked at her the way the old Harm had, with gentleness and…love?

The moment was fleeting, however, and he was back to all business. He returned her to the toilet, patted her hand dry with a cloth, and applied a little antiseptic. He followed with antibiotic ointment, then deftly covered the wound with gauze and tape. It was a much better dressing than she had done; it even felt a lot better.

"Thanks," she mumbled, still a little unsteady after their moment at the mirror. He didn't answer, just took her other hand in his, pulling her up and whipping her around until they both were facing the mirror. One of his muscular arms had wrapped around her waist, and her back was now flush against his front. Their eyes once again met in the mirror, but this time his were heated with a hungry lust. He ran his other hand up her side, eventually splaying his fingers around her full, round breast. He squeezed and teased and kneaded causing both nipples to harden and peak, while his tongue made love to her ear. The exquisite pain of arousal shot through her core, making her wet and needy again, aching to feel the growing hardness at her back buried inside her. She tried to turn around in his arms, but Harm held fast. His other hand slid down, down until it grazed the silken black curls at her entrance. His palm stroked her mound and she writhed underneath it.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah…" he groaned into her ear. "Do you feel what you do to me?" He bent his legs a bit, lowering himself to tease her slick folds with his now completely erect manhood, bending her forward at the waist. Her arms went out to support herself on the vanity. His thumb found its way home to her clitoris, roughly stroking it, making her squirm in that unique combination of pleasure and pain that made her nearly cry with the ecstasy of it. He let his fingers stray down to her entrance, thrust them in and out, curling them to find that special spot that made her nearly collapse in a boneless, ravished heap.

She was so completely aroused by then that she could only beg in short syllables, "Please, Harm. Now. I can't…I need…I need…"

"What do you need, Sarah?" he ground out as he continued his digital assault on her. "What do you want?"

"I want…" She could feel herself getting close to release, pressure building, her movements becoming more erratic.

His hand slowed and he leaned slightly away from her. "Haaaaarm," she whimpered, devastated at the delay in her pleasure. But then she felt that magnificent cock pressing at her entrance.

"Is this what you want, Sarah?" He pushed himself in until just the head was past her lips. "Is this what you need?" He slid in further, meeting no resistance.

"Yes, yes, Harm. Please!" She was nearly sobbing with her need.

And suddenly he was buried completely inside her, his thrusts more fevered and frantic than ever before. He pounded into her from behind, her shouts and cries seeming to spur him on. She'd never experienced sex like this before; mind-blowing didn't even begin to define this. Chris, Dalton, Clay, even Mic didn't do this to her, didn't turn her in to an incoherent, screaming mass of nerve endings that all fired at once. This time, as her orgasm spread through her, she swore she blacked out for a minute, waking to blinding flashes of lights and colors. Was this because of Harm's consummate skill as a lover or was it just because it was Harm? She chose not to focus on that question, instead just reveled in the feeling of Harm spasming inside her.

He came with a shout, collapsing on top of her, his arms coming to rest on either side of hers. He stayed there, leaning over her, his breathing gradually slowing and evening out.

"Sarah…oh, fuck, fuck, Sarah…what you do to me…I—"

He cut himself off then, just kissed the back of her neck. They rested a few more seconds, then he withdrew from her, scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to the bed, laying her down with surprising gentleness after their most recent act of passion. He slipped in beside her, both of them now lying on their backs. Eventually Mac gave in to the sleep that beckoned her, exhausted and sated by the man beside her.

2202 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac woke a couple of hours later, finding herself alone, Harm's side of the bed cold. She sighed and to her utter shame, tears started to fill her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. She lay there for another few minutes, until her stomach growled and she remembered she hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

She threw back the covers, touched that Harm had taken the time to cover her up. She donned her robe and padded to the kitchen, finding and heating up the leftover Chinese she had had delivered last night. She took her plate and wandered into the living room. She stopped at the window, looking out toward but not focused on the street below her. Her mind flashed on the feel of Harm's lips on her hair as he held her hand under the water. So soft, so…tender. The moment had been oh so ephemeral, but she could still feel the warmth spreading through her. Maybe, despite her 'never,' there was still a chance for them? She squelched that thought with a bitter laugh. No, that ship had sailed. What she needed to do now was let him go, no more of these 'meetings.' No more of these passionate, fiery interludes. No more of his touch, no more of feeling truly alive for the first time in months. No more…

She noticed the light of her answering machine blinking, a new message awaiting her. She took a bite of her Kung Pao chicken, then pressed the button on the machine. She stopped in mid-chew as a familiar voice filled the room.

"Hi, Sarah, darling. It's Clay. Just checking in. Hope your day improved. I miss you and I'm counting the hours until Saturday. Anyway, call when you get this—I may not be able to answer—but I'd love to hear your voice. Love you." Mac nearly dropped her plate. She pressed the rewind button and Clay's voice came through once again. "…hear your voice. Love you."

What? Oh god…

She swallowed the food still in her mouth, feeling it stick in her throat. Bile rose up to meet it, and she fought hard to push it all down. Appetite now completely obliterated, the sight of the food now nauseating, she hurried to the kitchen. She tossed the offending meal into the sink, and then sank into a kitchen chair. She buried her face in her hands.

Oh, Clay…Clay, I'm sorry, so sorry. I love you too, but you're not…oh god…you're not…Harm. I'm so sorry.

The voice in her head started to taunt her. Poor Clay…he took everything in Paraguay on himself, he saved your life, and you just fuck Harm. Behind his back…

But Harm did save both of us, she argued with herself.

Yes, but he was a jealous prick the whole time.

I hurt him, Mac answered back.

He hurt you.

I said 'never.' I hurt him right back.

Clay loves you. Harm doesn't.

Maybe he—

No, he's just using you. You're his fuckbu—

Stop it! She felt ridiculous arguing with herself.

But you are, aren't you? You know what that makes you? A sl—

STOP IT! She shouted back at her inner voice, this time out loud. The sound of her own audible voice shocked her, and she stood up so fast her chair tipped over. I am NOT a slut!

The little demon inside her wouldn't quit, though. You are too. Are too are too are too! What would Clay say? You're going to break his heart. Over a man that despises you. He does, you know. Why else would he come here just to fuck you and leave? You have Clay. Why aren't you satisfied with that? Why, Sarah, why?

Because…

Because why?

He's not Harm. He's NOT Harm!

That is so sad and pathetic, Sarah. Clay is—

NOT HARM! Not Harm. Not Harm not Harm not Harm!

Bile rose up once again; this time she knew she couldn't stop it. She turned and ran from the kitchen, falling to her knees on the bathroom floor. She retched into the toilet until she finally collapsed back against the tub, giving into the tears and sobs she rarely allowed herself.

This had truly been a wretched day.

End Chapter 7