This part is a little darker. Mac's a bit of a mess right now. Let's hope Harm can help her sort it out.
Chapter 3 - Death Of Me
Maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger
Baby, you could be the death of me
I'm falling, fading, and seeing angels
Baby, you could be the death of me - Pvris
I'm staring out the passenger window of the fleet vehicle we've procured, not that I can see much, it's raining in sheets and had been since the second we left HQ. The cool glass feels nice against my skin and my fingers play with the droplets as if I could reach out and catch them. It's rather soothing to hear the hard pounds of rain, anything that drowns out the sounds of him breathing or the hammering of my heart.
"I'm driving." Harm said without so much as a look in my direction and I slid as far away as possible practically leaning against the door. There's a tension between us that I've never felt as if at any moment he could forcefully run us off the road killing the two of us. He's driving dangerously fast and my heart thunders louder in my ears, egging him to speed a little more and feel that adrenaline rush from zooming through traffic.
Adrenaline, I need that because it's the closest thing I will ever get to a drink. And so I reach across the vehicle, place a hand over his knee and push down as hard as possible. It forces his foot deeper into the gas pedal and increases our speed exponentially. Harm screams my name, yells that we're about to crash and soon we're airborne, the car sailing through the rails of a bridge and then plunging into the cold water below.
It's the feeling of pinpricks across my face that finally has my eyes snapping open to find Harm holding the car door open for me. "Do you want the umbrella? Yes or no, Colonel."
I stare up at him blankly, my eyes starting to focus and I notice it was a waking dream. My head scrambles for a minute in effort to say something, anything to him but I can't speak. It's like the waters from my dream have choked the words right out of my throat.
My inaction is a source of irritation for my partner and he simply leaves the car door open, letting me get soaked to the bone while he hurries off towards the hotel we've stopped at.
"Harm…" When I say his name, it's too late… he's already gone.
"Which bed do you want?" I try to make idle chit-chat but he has none of it. I suppose I deserve that but it really isn't my fault that they had nowhere else to stick us but in the same fucking room. The storm of the year rages on outside and within the confines of our home for the night, lights flicker ominously - a sign of worse things to come.
Harm dumps himself onto the first bed, clothes and all then motions to the head. "Use it first, I'm calling the Admiral to apprise him of the situation." He mumbles something else that sounds like an insult or displeasure at our little predicament and I am reminded why sleeping with a co-worker is so stanchly reprimanded in the military. The man can be a grouch and a petty one at that.
What I find particularly annoying is that I can't stop bumping into him. At work, at the park or even at a pizza place, Harm just seems to show up like my own personal stalker. The annoyance is mutual because he doesn't want to be near me anymore than I want to be near him. Maybe I should transfer out? But heading TAD to Guadalcanal two years ago had already been a step back in my career and I was determined not to run.
This would blow over and if it didn't, hell, I don't know.
I shower with the water as hot as it would go, it burns like hell but feels good at the sametime - a kind of pleasure pain that I can't describe. It's when I step out that I look at him, clad only in his slacks and dress shirt which is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. I don't know why he looks so sexy like that but I'm probably the most biased woman in the world when it comes to Harmon Rabb Jr.
He licks a finger to flip a page on the file he's holding and all rational thoughts fly out of my head. I want him. Badly. I want him to stop whatever the hell is wrong with me, a skid that started when we broke up and hasn't stopped. I want him so bad I would happily beg for him to take me here and now.
I want him inside me, I want him above me. I want him.
I'm only wearing a towel that I release and let drop to the ground boldly standing in front of Harm, forcing him to look at me by not walking away. "Mac? What?"
The pages slip from his fingers and drift somewhere to the ground. He sits up and does a terrible job of hiding the erection that tented almost instantly. Oh, guess he doesn't hate me as much as he thought he did. Or maybe he does but has some perverse thoughts of punishing me.
"Fuck me. I want you to." The vile words spill from my lips, not that I'm against cursing, I use the vernacular just as much as my sailor counterparts. But with him, it's never been about a quick fuck. I didn't want that from Harm, I didn't want that one night stand - until now.
My skin is still raw from the hot shower when he grabs me. He's not gentle, not in the least as he easily lifts my body and practically throws me onto the mattress. I suppress a groan when his heavier body crushes mine, whimper as he spreads my legs and only touches me briefly to make sure I'm wet.
It's rough and it's hard and Harm still has his shirt on, the slacks stop mid-buttocks, low enough for his erection to spring free. The buckle of his belt scratches me, his hands hold me down so that I can't move as he thrusts into me.
"Yes. Harder." I urge him and his eyes meet mine long enough to see the obsidian. They weren't blue or grey, not a smidge of the lovely hues that make me want to lose myself in him. Harm's eyes are black as night like an evil demon has embodied him.
He now balances on hands that are on either side of my head. The same hands that once would weave with mine when we made love. But this wasn't love, it was far from it. This was just a carnal need for release in every sense.
Dark. What we were doing was dark and each hard thrust hurt but the pain wasn't enough to stave my own darkness. It was me that took one of his hands when he slowed down. Me that forced him to wrap those long fingers around my throat and squeeze until the edges of my vision began to tunnel. He would be the death of me.
His movement slowed and stopped when it dawned on him what was happening, that he was killing me. "Don't stop." I hear a voice that sounds like my own say but it sounds raspy, so odd and malevolent that it scares me. "Finish it you fucking coward."
I try to grind against him, to make Harm continue drilling into me but his body seems to be set in stone. Moments later, he pulls out and pushes himself off the bed. Harm's breath is ragged and rough as he rushes off to the bathroom without a care to see if I'm alright.
My throat hurts, my vision is still blurry and I sense the vestiges of an impending migraine. Within the confines of the bathroom I hear the shower run and take that as my way of escape.
I don't want to face him. I don't want to see the disgust nor the disappointment in his eyes. I want to yell at him for not finishing and curse him for being in my life. Instead I run.
In haste I toss on a pair of shorts and a sports bra then lace up my sneakers without even bothering to search for socks. My arms are halfway into a t-shirt when I open the door and set off in the pouring rain.
I run. All I can do is run.