Totally got this idea from seeing the GW preview with CB ala Sandy from Grease. I admit a pang of jealousy as HM would have looked damned sexy in that garb. Sigh. Oh well...

Motorcyle

Mac had always been drawn to the purr of a motorcycle engine as if it were her personal siren's song. Yes, it reminded her of riding in the back of Chris' bike - the night they drove across the desert, the morning he raced her away from Joe MacKenzie.

Despite his criminal side, some traits were endearing like the day he taught her to ride. He was patient, caring and made sure not a drop of alcohol had passed through her lips. That was the only time they both had been completely sober and it was all for the power of screaming metal between her thighs.

It was a memory Mac was fond of - her first ride, the motorcycle Chris had stolen to teach and impress her. She would never forget riding on her own, the sense of freedom and power. Unlike a car, the motorcycle felt alive, like part of her as she throttled it down the highway until the engine could go no more.

And so she looked out for the motorcyclist finding a man on a Harley driving right up to her building. He stopped the bike right at the curve and shut down the roaring engine before taking off his helmet and speaking to her. "Hey Sweet Thing, wanna ride?"

His voice was a velvety gravel, alluring sexy as the man himself. He wore faded black jeans and a black leather jacket which stretched across his broad back. His dark hair stuck up in odd angles and that only served to make him even more desirable.

His foot came down on the kickstand, a harsh sound as he leaned the full weight of the bike into the metal. He pulled off the aviators he wore and those striking pale blue eyes looked her up and down.

There was a low cat call and a whistle because the outfit she wore was neither typical or as concealing as her uniform. No, Mac was dressed to match him - black, skin tight leather pants, a black halter that came off her shoulders. The top didn't plunge indecently but it was enough to pique his interest.

A blood red belt sat high on her waist and Mac teetered in heels that were equally crimson. Her lipstick and nails matched that vermillion tone and a black leather jacket hung from the tips of her fingers. She gave off something of a Grease kind of vibe passing for a dark haired version of its main protagonist and from the look in Harm's eye, he was pleased with the outcome.

"I didn't know you had a bike."

Harm merely shrugged and then cooly leaned against the bike. "I learned ages ago but this was an impulse buy."

"Hmmm. Guess money is lucrative in the CIA?"

"Hah. No. All the danger, none of the cash."

Mac hated that he was involved with the agency all because of her. He resigned to come rescue her and Webb which Harm did and then they come home to find Chegwidden wouldn't let him back. "I wish you'd leave...You can find something else you know? There has to be a way for you to come back."

"Sarah." He stepped up to her then and his hand gently cupped her cheek. "I fly, nothing else. It's mostly safe, I'm safe."

"Mostly safe? I don't like those odds. And I know you too well, you're not telling me something." She pulled his hand off her cheek and simply held it with fingers that interlaced with his. Harm had a sheepish expression and she didn't need an answer to know he'd likely gotten himself in more trouble that she could imagine. "I'm not there to watch your six, you know?"

"Beth does a pretty good job of that." His grin went up in wattage when Mac let out an exasperated snort and rolled her eyes for effect. "Do I sense a little jealousy there, Marine?"

"No."

"No?" He teased and took a step closer so that there was only a few inches separating them. "We're together. This works, it's working, isn't it?"

They had been together from the moment they stepped foot into the hotel in Ciudad del Este and he pulled her against his body. They were both filthy, sticky, sweaty but Harm couldn't hold back all of the feelings he'd repressed for nine years.

She was alive. Wonderfully, gloriously, absolutely alive and he wouldn't lose that chance. Mac led him to the bathroom where clothes melted off and the shower became an act of foreplay. He teased her gently, cleansed the cuts and grime which marred her body. He touched her like no man ever had with such reverence Mac nearly collapsed from the pleasure.

When he carried her to bed, his wet body slid over hers and that union was a homecoming of sorts. He loved her, Harm said over and over as if in prayer. She replied in kind and let him know she practically fell from day one. They'd been inseparable since.

"It works but I miss seeing you at the office. The place is not the same without you and neither am I." She pouted and red lipstick made her kissable lips so enticing that he couldn't help holding back any longer.

Harm kissed her slowly, savoring Mac as if she were the finest of wines. Right there, on the curb, in front of her apartment, he kissed her without a care in the World. "Being in the agency does have its perks."

"I was wondering when you'd kiss me. Making me second guess my outfit." She brushed the lipstick off his lips only to laugh when he came in for another and another kiss. "You're insatiable."

"Only with you." His arms had wrapped around her feeling the skin tight material that wrapped around her body. She really did look good, the red was his favorite. "Let's get going before I throw you over my shoulder, walk into that building and throw you on the bed."

"Oooh, you promise?" She squeezed his six, laughing when Harm jumped away from her.

"Ugh. Easy Marine, my control is not as finite as I'd like." As it was, Harm was gonna spend the evening annoyed by other men looking at her. He would suffer proudly, of course because none of them would be spending the night in her arms.

Harm opened a saddle bag and produced another helmet that he plopped onto her head and helped Mac secure. He kissed her again, a quick peck this time and then straddled the bike.

And she watched. Those strong legs on either side of the heavy machine. His big hand revving the throttle. He slipped his aviators back on along with his helmet and then offered a hand for her to join him. "Hold on."

Mac's arms wrapped around his waist, her head came down to his shoulder. He smelled of leather, sweat and musk of his sweet cologne, all male and wonderful. Yes, she would hold on - forever.