A/N: Order up! (And I hope you had a very light lunch and a very strong craving for pie.) And if that's not enough of a hint, I suppose the song lyrics will do it. Isn't it wonderful how there's just a song for everything? :)

Want you to rock me baby, rock me all night long
Want you to rock me baby, rock me all night long
Well I want you to rock me baby, like my back ain't got no bones

Sun goin' down, the moon begin to rise
Sun goin' down, the moon begin to rise
Well I want you to rock me baby, till you make me satisfied

Rock me easy, rock your baby slow
Rock me easy, rock your baby slow
Well you know I want you to rock me so easy, till I don't wanna rock no more

~ "Rock Me Baby" - Muddy Waters

I.

She met him kiss for fervent kiss, and her hands on the back of his neck gripped, slipped up to fist in his hair. It felt so good to be in his arms again, to feel the strength of him against her and to know for the very first time, that there was no reason whatsoever that they should not be together this way. The thought thrilled her, freed her, made her hungry for more than kisses, and she made a throaty little noise of need against his mouth, sucked on his tongue.

His response was immediate, a growling groan and his kisses intensifying until she was dizzy with them. She felt one of his hands slip down to the belt of the robe and pull the loose bow undone, slide inside to find her hip, caress its way up her, fingers spread wide as if he longed to touch as much of her as he could at one time. She could feel his large hand spanning her just under the place where her breast met her ribcage, fingertips stroking gently, back and forth, back and forth. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt one at a time so she could explore the muscles and planes underneath the warm fabric of his shirt, hand trapped between the heavy outer shirt and the thin soft cotton of the tee he wore beneath.

Suddenly he broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck. She rolled her head back, inviting him to press his lips down the lovely column of her throat, seek out the sensitive spots that would make her murmur and shift, and unable to deny her, he gently nibbled, gently kissed. She could sense restraint in him, though. The fire he'd been kissing her with a moment ago was dampered, held back. She opened her eyes and he sat back to meet them.

"Marshall?" she said, gently running her hand over his tousled hair, smoothing it down.

He understood her unasked question, and he removed his hand from her naked waist to take her hand in his own, pull it to his lips, kiss it.

"This is going to sound stupid to you..."

Her lips quirked in amusement. "When has that ever even slowed you down in the past?"

"Ha-ha." He leaned down and kissed her lightly. "I was just thinking..."

"Boy," she muttered as if she were saying it to herself, "I really am slipping if he's still thinking while we're kissing...Jeeezus. Gotta shape that up, then..."

He grinned again, and gently placed one fingertip lightly against her lips. Her eyes got big, then narrowed down to dangerous golden slits at the light restraint. "Now will you listen? Please? You can hurt me all you want to in just a minute. Promise." Her mouth twisted behind his finger, and then she nodded. "Good. Thanks. This is important to me..." He took a deep breath, leaned in and replaced his finger briefly with his lips, then leaned away and brought the finger back again. Silent laughter danced in her eyes at his lack of trust in her.

"I just realized that this is sort of...our first time...tonight, and I want us to take our time with it, go slow, enjoy it, make it what it ought to be, ought to have been." She shifted, and he anticipated her comments as only he could have done. "I know, I know...you're thinking what about Texas? What about that night under the stars?" She noticed he very deliberately did not name the night at his house... Ah Marshall, that night wasn't all bad. Gonna have to teach you how to unbend a little with some stuff because there were one or two things that night that I will be looking for a repeat performance of later on... "You know what, as nice as some parts of those nights together were, there was always some shadow hanging over us, some lack of control, some guilt we were trying to outrun or that we knew would be coming with the sunlight. Tonight is the first night that is just ours, and I want us to... savor it. Okay?"

She nodded, smiling against his finger, and he slowly lowered his hand to let her speak at last. "Okay. But you're going to need to tell me what you had in mind so I can get up to speed if this is complicated. Because my plans for the evening were pretty transparent," she purred, and she took his hand in both her own, brought his index finger back to her lips, and gently sucked it between her lips as far as the first bend. The innuendo in her voice and the action of her mouth, the swirl of her tongue and the gentle scrape of her teeth, made his eyelids sweep closed and he swallowed hard, reclaiming his now-slightly-shaking hand slowly.

His voice was husky as he said, "Let me show you instead."

II.

At his insistence, they started with food. Mary pouted at the loss of his body pressed against hers with the promise of immediate satisfaction, but her mood brightened considerably as she sat at the bar and watched Marshall in Stan's small kitchen preparing the meal. He prepared the grill first, and then took the steaks she'd had set aside for her post-hot-tub meal and concocted a marinade from some other ingredients he found in Stan's cabinets and shelves. He then set about adding some potatoes and other items he found in her haphazardly-filled shopping bags to them for side dishes.

"I take it culinary masterpieces and fine cuisine weren't a part of your travel provender," he said, holding up a can of pork-n-beans and looking at it askance before putting it aside to pick up a knife and the cutting board to start work on the potatoes.

She grinned at him unrepentantly and shrugged. "You sure seemed to like some of my food choices earlier," she teased, and gestured toward the now half-empty bag of doughnut holes sitting on the cabinet nearby.

He smirked at her. "Ah, yes. Well, everything's good if it's sticky sweet, right?"

For a moment she almost fell off her chair, and she did cough on the swallow of wine she'd been taking. Did he just say what I think he said? And even if he didn't...oh sweet saints, can I just have that recorded on an endless loop and pretend like he did? She studied his expression, noticed the slightest of blushes across his cheekbones. Oh look, well, he's thinking it now, soooo... Let's yank that chain, shall we? One should never miss a chance to yank a chain... She smirked right back, leaned on her elbows over the countertop, and her tone dripped with innuendo. "Mmm... yeah. Plus, as memory serves me, it seems you have a bit of a sweet tooth, don't you, Marshall?" There was a challenge in her eyes.

He was slicing potatoes, and he grinned down at the cutting board, the blush on his cheeks growing a bit more pronounced. "I'll admit to...certain cravings... now and again." He slid his gaze to hers for just a moment, really no more than a glance up through long lashes, but the heat from those eyes was a physical, tangible thing, and she felt her entire body respond to the promises he was making with just that single, brief look.

Want him. Want him now. Don't want to wait for silly food or whatever the hell else he has in mind. Just want him want him want him...

She set her wineglass down on the bar and came around to stand beside him in the curve of the counter as if she were observing his work, deliberately too close, deliberately pressed into his side. "And do you ever...indulge any of those cravings? Or are you one of those people who believes in self-denial?" Her tone was husky.

He put the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel, turned to face her. "You know what? I used to be. For a long, long time, I believed it was better to refrain from...consuming the things I crave," he said in a musing voice that, like hers, was lower than usual, betraying him despite the logical sound to his words.

"How about now?" She murmured, running her hands lightly up his arms to his shoulders, resting them there, waiting for it. Because I just have this feeling...

"Now? Well, now, I have to admit, my feelings are a bit different on the subject," he lowered his head a bit so his breath whispered over her mouth, stepped closer to her, crowding her back against the cabinets, a slow, wicked smile sliding over his mouth. His hands fell lightly to the countertop on either side of her hips, effectively hemming her in.

Tease. God. Going to...shit! Come on... "S-s-so...how do you feel?" she whispered, determined to play it through to the end despite the fact that she wanted to climb him like a cat up a tree, wanted to throw him down in the middle of the clean tile floor and shred his clothing and just take...

He nuzzled a featherlight trail up her neck to her ear, and she shivered at the sensation before he breathed, "Well, now, I have to say I'm a new man, Mare. One who's decided to partake," a kiss on her lips, teasing, catching her bottom lip between his teeth lightly, "lap up," another,deeper, his tongue slipping in to flick against her own, "consume," another, and the world was spinning, "and sup," one last hot melding of his mouth on hers, "whenever I feel like it." And he broke away to suck her earlobe lightly, listening to her ragged breath.

"Oh, God, Marshall," she murmured as he kissed his way down her neck, "tell me you're not going to make me wait anymore... I...I...that's just cruel..."

He was laughing softly, little puffs of breath against her skin as he kissed her. His hands found the belt of the robe, tugged lightly, flipping the lapels open and slipping inside it to cup her breasts boldly, thumbs lightly circling just outside her nipples, and her head fell back at his touch, her hands clutching now at his shoulders for support as her knees went weak. The robe slipped down her shoulders to hang from her elbows. He looked at her, and the humor banked deep in his eyes, disappearing momentarily under the blaze of desire.

"Mmm," he hummed deep in the back of his throat as he looked at her there pinned between his body and the cabinet. "Of course, there's always some prep work to be done before every meal," he whispered, lightly rolling her nipples just to watch the expression on her face, just to watch her lips part on a soft moan. "And then, there are always the appetizers..." He dipped his head, hands coming down to span her waist as he sucked one nipple deep into his mouth. Her whole body jerked in reaction, curved demanding more, more, and she ran her fingers through his hair to hold him against her as he lovingly laved and suckled her.

He transferred his attention to the other breast, peppering tiny kisses across skin growing increasingly feverish as he moved from one to the other, taking the time to nuzzle the rosy peak before drawing it between his lips. She looked down at him to see his eyes open and on her face, watching her reactions to his kiss, his touch, and their gazes locked as he continued to give her pleasure with his mouth, the intensity of it somehow magnified by the connection of their eyes. Unable to maintain the eye contact, her head fell back with a muttered curse, and she felt him smile against her skin.

You win that round, she thought, and then her thoughts spun away with the continued sensation.

He stood again, lifted her lightly, and sat her down on the clean curving end of the workstation countertop as his mouth pressed against hers, tongue slipping in to dance against hers. The robe still clinging to her arms served as a barrier between her bare bottom and the cold stone, but because it constricted her after he placed her, he helped her slide it down and off as their mouths continued to mate, to meld. His hands found her hips, and he pulled her lightly forward until her hips met his own, and she groaned as she felt the evidence of his desire for her pressing against her behind the denim of his jeans. Now there's a main dish I want some of now... She slipped a hand down from his chest to between them to caress the taut bulge there, and he broke the kiss with a shuddering sigh, rocked his hips against her hand for a moment, and then caught her wrist, brought her hand to his lips.

She growled in frustration, recognizing by now his stalling technique. "Marshall..."

"No...this is just the first course...the amuse bouche as the French might say..."

"My bouche isn't very fucking amused right now, Julia Child, and what I want is so much more than a mere mouthful..." She tightened her legs around his waist, was gratified to feel the instinctive twist of his hips before he stopped it and the little grunt that escaped him.

His lips quirked and he brought a hand up cradle her cheek gently, amusement and arousal in his expression. " No? My apologies...Let me see what I can do about that right now..." And he gave her one of those mind-altering kisses of his. As his tongue slid against hers, dancing, dueling, she felt his hand slide down from her waist to the top of her thigh, and she shifted, waiting, needing. Ah, yes...touch me, Marshall, that's right...

"Still not amused?" he purred. "Try this." And he ran his fingertip along the crease of the joining of her thigh to her body, so close to where she wanted his touch, teasing the golden curls that were already damp for him, spread for him around the width of his own waist. Her hips hitched against his, and she murmured his name, "Marshall, damn you..."

He smiled gently, wickedly against her lips. "No, not yet? What about now?" And he dipped one finger into the wet center of her, traced it through her swollen folds slickly, slowly, taking the time to find every place that made her tense and shudder, gasp and groan. He stroked her over and over. Finally, he began to circle the erect bud of her clitoris with his thumb and thrust a finger hard inside her, began to move it with a leisurely rhythm. She was leaning heavily against him, and his mouth was swallowing every tiny sound of pleasure she made, her hips beginning to move against his hand seeking more.

He pulled back, his hand still stroking, teasing, caressing, and he watched the sensations cross her face as he touched her. "Still not amused?" he rasped in her ear. She couldn't respond. She was so close, but he was keeping her hanging there, in a place wrapped in pleasure.

"Mmm...Mare...I wish you could see what I see," he whispered. "God, you're exquisite. And you know what?" His hand never, even for a minute, stopped its slow steady rhythm between her legs, stroking, stroking, stroking... "I think maybe the mouth that needs to be amused right now is mine." He dropped to his knees in front of her, his height making the low cabinets of Stan's kitchen exactly the right height for...

Mary's body fell backwards, bowed right back up in reaction as Marshall's tongue swept over her. He slipped her thighs over his shoulders and pushed her open wide. He explored every crevice of her slowly, hungrily, avidly, and she cried out as she came when he sucked the swollen bud of her clit between his lips and flicked his tongue against it again and again as he thrust his finger back into her hard and fast. He gave her no waiting time, no time to come down, using instead the flat of his tongue to lap at her firmly while he slid another finger into her, curving, reaching for the most sensitive spot inside her. Her hips jerked under his mouth, and she came, crying out and totally unable to stop herself from it, when she opened unfocused eyes and looked down to see him watching her again with eyes so hot a blue they burned.

He rose, leaned down over her to kiss her, and as it had been that night in Albuquerque, she could taste herself on his lips. She was still panting, still recovering, and she could feel him pressed like a steel rod against her. "Off," she murmured, tugging at his shirt, and he shed it and the tee under it quickly, eagerly complying before returning to press naked flesh to naked flesh as he took her mouth again. She reached down between them to his zipper, and when he would have pushed her hand away to continue to savor the delay, the slow build, she bit his bottom lip none to gently and squeezed him softly through the denim. He smiled against her mouth, held both his hands up to the side as if she were holding a gun on him, let her do as she would.

"Damn straight," she muttered against his lips, and she popped the button and pulled down the zip with a firm tug, grateful that he for once wasn't wearing one of his large belt buckles. Oh, so much better than Christmas... she thought as he sprang free, pushing the bright blue boxers down his lean hips to skate to the floor with the jeans. She wrapped her hand around the length of him, delighted to feel the shiver of pleasure run through him at her light touch. She stroked him twice, gently, and he growled, his hips thrusting against her hand, her hips, as he watched her hand on him. His hands fell back to the countertop to brace himself against the pleasure that was rising.

She looked at the glistening tip of him and she tilted her head slightly, caught his eyes, and very slowly dragged the pad of her thumb over the head, spreading the slick moisture in mind-altering little circles, making sure to stroke firmly just under the sensitive crown. His hips rocked, and he groaned. "God, M-m-Mare...yeah...just like that..."

She leaned in, used her free hand to reach up and tweak his nipple, watched his whole body twist in reaction, then kissed him, wrapped her hand around him and began to work him in earnest. He buried his face in her neck, and as she caressed him, she felt his mouth open, felt his teeth there, nipping lightly, felt his tongue come out to lap, to suck, knew she'd carry his mark there again tomorrow, and she didn't care...

Want to make him lose control, want to make him go beyond himself, and I know just how...

She continued to work his shaft with firm strokes, and she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "You know what, Marshall? You got all the appetizers, and I don't really think that's fair. Do you?"

He was beyond words, almost beyond responding. He made a sound that might have been the beginnings of understanding her. His hips bucked against the rhythm of her hand.

"I mean, you kept all the sticky sweet for yourself...greedy, that." She gave him a kiss that was almost enough to send him over by itself. A soft desperate noise was coming from the back of his throat and he was shuffling his feet slightly as he sought some change, any change, that would let him find release from the pleasure/agony she kept him hanging in, but Mary smirked to herself. Oh no, Marshall, Oh no, you beautiful man. You're not done until I say. This is my craving. Watching you come apart, watching all the layers stripped away, hearing that little sound, and in just a minute...yeah...and I think...I think....

"I think I want mine now." She slid off the counter, onto her knees on the floor in front of him, still stroking, still teasing, and that sound in his throat was becoming breathless words... trying to become meaning...

"Oh God, Mare...Ohgodmareohyes..."

"And I'm not patient, Marshall. You know this. I like...instant gratification..." She pressed a lapping kiss to his flat abdomen, nuzzled the dark trail she found there leading down, and his hands threaded through her hair desperately.

He was as still as he could be, but his hips were hitching forward in spite of himself, and she smiled. "So I believe I'll just take what I want. Like this." And she sucked him down hard. He cried out, hips rocking as she used her tongue to coax him into an orgasm so intense every muscle in his body clenched and he collapsed to his knees, crying out as it hit him.

She caught him on his way down, wrapped her arms around him, eased him to the floor, and held him as they recovered. As he came down, he looked at her, hands gently framing her face, pushing damp hair back, a ridiculous grin slowly spreading over his face.

"What?" she asked softly, feeling much too pleased with him and with herself, with the world in general to be very irritated no matter what was about to fall out of his mouth.

"I was just thinking that if this was just the appetizer, we may not survive the main course..."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, pushed him away so that he tumbled back gently on the floor. He laughed his crazy happy laugh, leaned up on his elbows to look at her.. "Oh my God with the culinary metaphors. And also, speak for yourself, idiot," she murmured, mock angry. But she eyed him, let her gaze run over his lean form lying there against the tile like a work of art. Incredibly, she felt something stir inside her despite what had just happened. She let it show in her eyes, in her slow feral smile, in the tone of her voice, in the feline stretch of her body. "Because you know I have one hell of an...appetite. How about you?"

Marshall's grin just broadened.