A/N: Well, there was no barrage of heavy objects, and I appreciate it. Even more than that, though, I appreciate all you wonderful readers and your kind reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying this one. I am, too. The song at the beginning is very, very long. It's the almost the entire thing, and I don't normally do that, but to me, it fits perfectly. It might almost have been written for Mary and Marshall. If you've never heard this one by Chris Thile, I can't recommend it highly enough.

(By the way, the rating for the chapter is M! for Mature, My Goodness, and Oh My, Mary and Marshall! If you don't like that, skip this one. Suffice it say, um...here there be Pie.)

I'm scared of your body
and I'm scared of your soul
But I'd rather be letdown
Than let being with you go.

I am yours if you want me
you can see I'm not mine anymore
it didn't take much to drive me crazy
I guess I wasn't that sane before.

I don't care about my future
and I don't care about your past
Those things come from and lead to right now
and they can get the hell out fast.

So I am yours if you want me
And you know what now I think you should
'cause I want you to be mine so bad
I promise I will make it good.

~ "I'm Yours If You Want Me" Chris Thile

There under the stars, she pulled his head down those last few inches, and she lifted her mouth to his, letting him know she understood, letting him know that tonight neither one of them was going anywhere alone. For long moments their kisses remained gentle, sweet, but the tension in both of them was winding itself tighter and tighter, a watch spring being twisted to the point of breaking. He was supremely aware of everything around him, the cool breeze rustling the last of the dry leaves clinging to the trees, the soft liquid sounds of the water in the pool, and every minute change in her breathing and movement as their lips glided against each other.

Desperately wanting more, he traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She opened instantly for him with a needy little sound that made his hand in her hair clench. He deepened the meeting of their mouths, slid his tongue in against hers, rolling slightly to lean over her more fully. Mary wrapped herself around him, pulled him close, pulled at him until he was lying on top of her, met him insane and drugging kiss for insane and drugging kiss.

He slipped one hand down from her hair, found the edge of her robe, pushed under it to find the firm plane of her abdomen beneath the warm bulky fabric. She purred her approval against his mouth, curved her body toward the touch. Her own hands slipped down his back to begin pulling the edge of his shirt free from his jeans and belt....

He covered the mound of her breast over the thin cotton of her sleep shirt, and her nipple was already peaking for him, pressing into his palm as he caressed her gently. She skimmed her nails lightly across his now-bare lower back in response, brought one leg up his, a little sound of pleasure escaping her. Her kisses gained fervor.

Like it when I do that, do you, Mare? Oh, there's more... I've been wanting this forever. What about if I ...

He gently plucked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, and she arched beneath him, breaking the kiss, exposing the line of her throat as she gasped, clutching at his shoulders as if she needed something to anchor her. Unable to resist the temptation, he pressed open-mouthed kisses there, skimming his teeth across the tendons of her neck. Her hands came up to tunnel through his hair as he flipped open the robe fully, pressed nibbling kisses across her exposed collarbone, lower, nuzzled her lightly, lightly through the fabric of the shirt.

"Get there, Marshall," she gasped.

He smiled, his wicked fingertips circling over the sensitive peak as he raised his head to study her reaction. "Always the threat with you, always the demand." She was panting slightly, eyes narrowed as she looked at him, but as he touched her, her eyes swept closed, and he saw the strained pleasure on every line of her face. It made him never want to stop this slow play, this miracle of finally touching her the way he wanted to. It made him want to pin her and fuck her immediately, hard.

"You keep teasing me like that, and I swear to God, I refuse to be responsible for the consequences...." her voice breaking off as he leaned down to flick the tip of his tongue against her, wetting the thin layer of fabric.

"Promises, promises," he murmured, coming up to taste her lips again. She attacked his mouth, her frustration and want tangible, incendiary. He tore his mouth away and lowered his head, at last sucking her nipple deep and laving it the way he knew she wanted. She cried out, wildly clutching at him. Her hips twisted under his with ancient demand, and he fought the need just to rip down the denim that covered her and bury himself in her. It had been too long. His control was beginning to go. He let his teeth just graze her....

Suddenly, with a groan and a neat maneuver, Mary flipped Marshall over so she was astride him. She leaned down, hair making a curtain to hide both their faces as she pinned his hands down to either side. "Listen," she whispered in his ear.

"What? Conversation?" he groaned. "You expect coherent conversation now? And you stay on me about talking too much at the wrong time...." He reared up under her, and she tightened her hands on his, rested her forehead against his, laughed a little.

"Yeah, yeah... I do have a point....You know I'm sort of an adventurous girl, but did you really want to do this here? 'Cause I figure we've got about another minute and a half to make that judgment call before we hit the Who-Gives-a-Shit, Fuck-Me-in-the-Pool-Chair-Anyway point of no return." She sat back slightly to study his face.

He looked up at her, and despite the depth of his need, he felt the grin coming. He couldn't help it.

"So that's an actual line of demarcation, is it?"

She smirked down at him, let his hands go, rocked her hips once lightly on his lap, revenge for his earlier move, and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her. He pulled her tighter against him with a hungry groan. "You tell me." She leaned in, unable to resist, sucked his bottom lip gently, pulsed her hips again, pulled back.

"Y...y..yeah. Yeah. I'd say you're right." But I'm not so sure I'm not already across it.... His hands slipped up from her hips under her thin cotton shirt to cup her breasts, letting the heavy firm weight of them rest against him palms, stroking his thumbs over the nipples again, again, again...

"Marshall..." Her tone held both need and warning. He ignored her, sitting up against the backrest of the chair and pulling her forward, pulling up her shirt to expose her to the starry sky. For a moment, he just looked at her in the dim light, devouring her with his eyes.

"You are so beautiful, Mary. Do you have any idea how many nights I've dreamed about touching you again?...how long I've remembered...." He reached out and he ran his back of his fingers tenderly over the curve of her breast as though he were tracing something made of delicate eggshell porcelain. She could...not...breathe.... A sound of need escaped her, her previous ideas for going inside evaporating.

His eyes met hers for just a moment as he drew her toward his hungry mouth. Her toes curled as he suckled her slowly, thoroughly, deeply. She sighed and her head fell back as she watched the stars fall, reveling in the sensation of his kisses, the steel-ridge of his erection she could feel pressing impatiently against her despite his control. He rolled them over again, looked down into her eyes as he did, and what she saw there she could not, would not name. He moved his attentions to her other breast, and she ground her teeth together as he slipped his fingers down between them to cup her through the denim of her jeans.

The sunchair creaked plaintively under them as they writhed. Somewhere within the hotel, there was the sound of a door closing loudly, and on the second floor, a light came on in one of the bathroom windows, spilled down over them. Some slight shred of sanity came back to him.

He raised his head, looked at her. She was something straight out of one of his secret fantasies, hair tumbling, mouth swollen from their kisses, eyes half-closed, head rolled back as she clung to him. Her nipples gleamed in the sudden glow from the wetness of his mouth, and that slight sheen alone was almost enough to make him disregard everything else.

But, Mare, you're right. Let's not do this here. There' s perfectly good bed upstairs, and privacy and warmth.

He reached down for the reserves of restraint, gently leaned forward and kissed her, tugged her shirt back down, fingertips trailing down her ribcage. "You still game for taking this upstairs?"

She ran a hand over his face, down his chest, lower, and smiled cat-satisfied as he let out a hissing breath. She leaned in to whisper, "Marshall, I'm for taking this wherever I can get it.... but yeah, let's go." They stood more than a little unsteadily, leaned into each other, stumbled toward the door stopping every few feet for a kiss, a touch. "The faster we get inside there, the faster I can get you inside me."

Marshall groaned, pulled her against him, plundered her mouth, pulled away and whispered in her ear in tones that made her knees go weak, "The things you say....Just what makes you think this is going to be fast?"

They tried to cross the lobby with some decorum, but then she was sliding her hand up his bare back under his shirttail, and he retaliated by cupping her derrière, pulling her to him before the elevator doors had even closed. She laughed and murmured against his lips, "You think I don't know how to move things along?" Her hand closed around him through his jeans again, stroking, fingers teasing. He pressed his face into her shoulder, body shaking in response, a low sound escaping him. "I always get what I want, Marshall," she purred, filling his ear with a hot whisper.

He caught her hand, pulled it up to his lips, kissed the palm. "You want to be careful with that, Mare. It might get you into trouble."

She looked at him with a little challenge in her eyes. "Reeeally?" The elevator doors opened and she headed out toward their room. She allowed the robe to slide down off her shoulders as she arrived at door, turned around to face him, and he could see the outline of her breasts through the shirt, nipples hard-peaked through cotton still wet from his own mouth. "Do you promise?"

He reached around her to slide his key into the lock, hands catching the sleeves of the robe and twisting them to trap her hands as he opened the door and backed her inside slowly, step by step.

"Absolutely."

---

Inside the room, they divested each other of their clothing quickly, tossing garments onto or behind whatever surface happened to be in the way. They tumbled onto the bed, hands sliding, grasping, seeking.

Marshall rolled her beneath him, mouth fervent on hers. He slipped one hand between her legs to where she was wet and aching for him, stroked, slid it over her once, again, again. Her nails bit sharply into his shoulders. The tiny little pain only fed his need.

Mine, mine...she's mine now, mine tonight, and I don't even care about tomorrow. Going to have her, going to take and have....

He took his hungry mouth down her neck, across the swell of her breast, her cries driving him on. He slipped his hands under her back, and she fell backwards into a graceful bow as he kissed her abdomen, her navel. She pushed at his head as she murmured broken, wicked, graphic phrases of encouragement and desire.

He pushed her legs wide, parted her with his thumbs, need to, going to know just this once, just this once what she tastes like, and he laved her with a long, strong stroke of his tongue. His name fell from her lips like a curse, like a prayer, and he did it again. Her hips rocked underneath him, helplessly.

"Oh God, Marshall, yes. Don't you stop..."

He groaned low in the back of his throat. Better than honey wine, better than...than.. anything...Won't stop...can't stop.... It was a madness, a compulsion as he swept his tongue over her again and again and she writhed beneath him, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, his hair as sensation washed over her. He thrust a finger inside her, hard. She was clenched around him with a gasp, and it made him grit his teeth at the sensation of her, tight, hot, as she shuddered, came instantly, her overstimulated body seeking immediate release.

He kissed his way back up her as she recovered, giving her a moment, but then she was reaching out for him, wanting more, twining her strong legs around his hips to pull him down, and he was resting there against her at last, breath coming hard, hips hitching slightly, hands running up and down her in little caresses, gestures he could not control. Their eyes met, held, and she sensed he was, despite other intimacy shared, everything else that had passed, waiting for some kind of permission, some kind of sign from her.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. "Now, Marshall." She kissed him. "No more waiting. Right now."

And he buried himself to the hilt inside her with a sound that Mary would never, ever be able to forget, holding himself pressed hard and deep for a moment before his own long denial put urgency in the rhythm of his hips. He fought the rising tide of pleasure. Gotta make...make it last...so good...only want more... He was trying to delay the end of this sweetest of tortures, trying to record every sigh, every taste, every sensation so he would have them forever, and as he watched, Mary's body suddenly tightened again with her own orgasm. Her voice breaking over his name and her body greedily milking his own peeled away that self-restraint and shattered him across the altar of ecstasy.