Disclaimer: I don't own them, wish I did. All mistakes are mine.
A/N: This story is just a little something I thought of and had to put down. I hope to continue with these one-shots!
Harm and Mac are married with a couple kids (they don't make an appearance in the story, though.) All smut, not much plot.
Battleship
Harm gazed up from the open case in front of him, making a mental note to pick a game that wouldn't cover his wife's naked breasts the next time they played strip something.
It had become a monthly activity - turning a board or otherwise children's game into a strip tease. So far they had played strip Candyland, strip Pretty Pretty Princess, and strip Trouble.
It was more of a battle of wills than a win or lose competition. Only once had there actually been a winner in the sense of completing the game - although an argument had been made that giving in to the wiles of ones opponent before the game was through should be considered a loss. So far the score was 2-1, with Mac winning Pretty Pretty Princess outright and each seducing the other before the end of the other games.
Of course, the rules had to be adjusted a bit each time. For Candyland, a blue square meant the opponent had to take off an article of clothing while each red square signaled a kiss. And every time they played a game with the kids, Mac could see the wheels turning in Harm's head as he tried to figure out how to make an adult version to enjoy at a later date.
Tonight it was Battleship. Whenever a ship was sunk, the owner had to remove an article of clothing. Five ships per player and they were tied at undies and pants.
"Would you cut that out?" Harm warned as she slid her feet over his jeans.
"What?" She feigned innocence, "they're cold."
He called her bluff as he gazed over his game board, eyebrows raised at her shameless pout.
Harm took in a long breath. "C-9."
"Ooo," she replied in her sexiest voice, "that's a miss, Sailor."
"I-6," she held his gaze as her feet continued their ministrations.
He squinted at her, "hit."
Mac almost squealed with delight as she placed the red peg in the board. All she had left was his submarine and battleship, and she had found one of them.
"B-2."
She stretched, leaning back to accentuate her breasts which did, in fact, look cold.
"Maaaac," neither could tell if it was an whine or a moan.
"Miss," she replied, with a twinkle in her eye. She was literally going to beat the pants off a sailor at Battleship.
She managed to sink his submarine, but he was about to finish off her aircraft carrier, leaving her with his four peg battleship and him with her two peg destroyer.
"A-4."
"Hit." He sighed in disappointment. This gave Mac a huge advantage.
"Don't worry, Captain, I wont tell anyone that you lost to a Marine at a game of Naval strategy," she teased.
"Mac," he rolled his eyes, "there's not that much strategy to this game. Plus, if they find out, I'll just tell them you cheated." There was a twinkle in his eyes now, they always looked lighter, more green than blue when he was flirting.
"Cheating?" she raised an eyebrow, still smiling.
"Yes. Cheating. If you haven't forgotten, there is a no touching rule, and I'd like to see you win without distracting me with your feminine wiles."
"Objection!" she grinned, "The rules dictate that we can't touch ourselves, not that we can't touch each other...and what wiles would you be referring to?"
He returned the smile, "Well counselor, you've been stroking me with your feet and arching your back in the air all night," the hand that was trailing between her breasts suddenly stopped.
"Not to mention the sexy noises you make whenever I miss." His voice had dropped, his darkened eyes caressing from her lips to her breasts.
She fixed him with a look out of the corner of her eye, "I thought that was all part of the fun, Flyboy. Plus, you could have had me take off my shorts instead of my bra."
He chuckled, "You mean look at your nipples poking out of that lace, and the matching scrap of fabric you call underwear?"
She gave him a saucy smile, "Ahh, so you do like it when my skivvies match." Mac figured as much, but in grand Harmon Rabb fashion he had never confirmed it.
"You know I do," he said with his head tilted down, eyes devouring her.
"So why don't you sink my aircraft carrier find out if it's a set?" She challenged as her fingers finished their trail from between her breasts to dip under her waistband.
She was rewarded with a full Flyboy smile, "H-7."
Mac stood, holding his gaze as she pinched the ends of the tie at her waist. She slowly pulled at them until the knot released causing the shorts to drop to her feet. She stepped out of them with one foot and used the other to flick the garment onto Harm's lap. The fabric draped over the tent of his boxers and he glanced down as they landed, his eyes moving back to meet her amused expression.
"You're move, Colonel," his voice had turned gravelly and deep.
"A-3."
"Ooo, that's a miss, Ninjagirl," he imitated in a sexy voice.
"Tease all you want, Flyboy. I've got you right where I want you."
Harm sighed. The odds of him finding her destroyer before she sank his remaining ship were slim at best. His only hope to come out on top was seduction, and that meant getting her to his side of the table.
"You sure?" he gave her his sexiest grin, "Why don't you come over here?"
"Why would I do that?" she returned with a half smile and eyebrow raise.
"Because," he leaned forward, motioning her to meet him halfway, "You usually want me between your thighs."
Mac couldn't stop a gasp from escaping her throat as wet heat pooled between her legs. But when he leaned back with a cocky grin on his face, she regained her composure and focused her attention on the game.
"I'll save that for after I sink your battleship," she shot back with her own cocky grin. "Your move."
He let out a long breath, his eyes moving from hers to the board in front of him. "J-8."
A flash of fear shot through her eyes, one she covered with a Cheshire grin. "You know what?" she said as she stood, "maybe I will finish the game over there."
Mac settled herself on his lap, her lips moving over his neck, until he abruptly pulled back. "It was a hit, wasn't it?!"
"Maybe," she purred, nuzzling his ear, "but I would have to go all the way back there to check."
He mustered all of his control and gently pushed her away, "Then you shouldn't have come all the way over here to finish the game, Colonel."
"Fine. It was a hit. Are you happy?" she glared at him.
"Oh, very," he smiled, "your turn." Harm's eyes twinkled with the knowledge that despite the impending hit on his battleship, he was going to sink her destroyer and claim victory in his next turn.
"Are you sure you want to finish the game?" She teased as she moved to straddle him, "I would much rather sink something else."
He groaned as she rubbed against him, his hands gripping the seat of the chair to keep from succumbing to her advances.
"Not until you take your shot, Marine."
"Really?" she cocked her head to the side as she slid her hand over his swollen member, causing him to take in a sharp breath.
"Really," he managed to squeak out.
"B..." she drew out the letter, her lips against his ear as she pulled him through the opening of his boxers, positioning herself above his massive erection. "Which ship do you want to sink, Sailor?"
Harm's breath was heavy. He was hanging on by a thread. If it had been any other game, he would have given in, but he was an officer of the Navy and this was Battleship.
It only took him a moment to figure out how he was going to get her to complete her turn.
He slid his right hand to her hip and nibbled on hear, "There's something we need to do before..."
"Mmmm," she arched to give him more access to her neck, "Before what?"
She felt his lips turn up against her cheek as his hands stilled.
"Damn," she whispered, realizing what she had said.
"Hit," he said, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and causing her body to dip towards him.
His thumb slid under her panties and over her silken folds, eliciting a groan before he whispered, "J-9" and immediately swept the scrap of fabric out of the way to thrust into her waiting depths.
