Rating: R (language, adult situations)

Classification: Romance (Harm/Mac)

Feedback: Always appreciated, but never required or expected.

Summary: A night in the life of a certain Naval Commander and a certain Marine Lt. Colonel. Sometimes things are more clear when the sun goes down.....

Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to Paramount and CBS. No copyright infringement intended, nor am I making a dime off these simple words and fantasies.

Author's notes: I was inspired by the first snow of the season a few nights ago for this story. I hope you like it!

One winter's night….

The wind slams the glass entrance door behind me as I enter my building. Winter seems to have set in its heels today covering everything with pristine white snow and adding a raging wind to reorganize the flakes every other minute or so. Unlike Martha Stewart, Mother Nature seems to favor a limited palette for winter in Virginia - gray and white. Somewhat like my mood of late, I guess.

My boots leave their wet impressions in the carpet of the hallway as I make my way to my apartment. Another evening alone…Well, I do have Jingo, but he's not much of a conversationalist. I find myself smiling as I slip my key into the lock. I can hear Jingo's tail beating a steady tattoo on the floor on the other side of the door. I can just picture him waiting for me, sitting on his haunches, tongue out with his doggy smile. True to form, as I am greeted by my "man of the house" I find myself longing for another smile to greet me with laughing aquamarine eyes…

My footsteps echo up the stairwell as I make my way to my flat. The dull sound resonates within my heart as I think again of her. She has traveled this same set of stairs to my place many times in the past, but much fewer opportunities have seemed to present themselves this past year.

A note taped to my door from Sergei lets me know that I have the place to myself this evening due to a hot date. 'Don't wait up!' Sergei advises me and I smile with a brotherly pride - definitely a Rabb man. I shake the snow from my dark wool overcoat and my cover before I open the door, a true testament to my fastidious upbringing - Thank you, Mom. I slip off my overboots and walk through the door. Home at last, alone again…

The warmth of the hot chocolate permeates the mug and warms my chilled fingers. It's comforting and relaxing at the same time. I take a small sip as I stare out of the window, watching the snowflakes dance in the wind seeming to celebrate the last vestiges of the twilight. I wonder what he's doing right now as I snuggle deeper into my couch, nestled beneath the brightly hued afghan Harriet made for me when she first took up the art of crochet. It's my favorite because a friend I treasure made it just for me. He used to pick on the poor thing whenever he visited. I know it isn't perfect; it's slightly lopsided and some of the stitches are a bit loopy, but its mine and I defend it like the Stearman biplane he treasures himself.

"Everyone has a security blanket of some sort, Harm," I told him once, "Yours just happens to have wings."…

I slip my hands into my red lobster oven mitts, laughing to myself as I think back to the times that she's teased me about these mitts. Her laughing, gypsy eyes and teasing smile…beautiful, that's the only word to describe her. I can always count on her to razz me about my choice in kitchen wear. In my defense, she did buy me the matching apron to go with them for Christmas last year…"I'm going to hate myself for this," she laughed as I opened the gaily wrapped present, "Contributing to the delinquency of a squid du jour!"

The aroma of the pizza takes over my mind from the memory as I pull the cheesy, Boboli pie from the oven. I glance at the topping: fresh mozzarella cheese, fresh basil and oregano from my windowsill garden and fresh Roma tomatoes. Not a dead animal in sight….then again…no beautiful Marine Colonel in sight either…

Thank goodness for the fire and the candles I lit earlier, the power just went out. I pull the afghan closer about my shoulders and settle back to stare into the flames crackling merrily behind the cast iron screen. It was just last weekend that he showed up at my apartment with a crate load of those long-burning flame logs. "Just in case," he told me sternly, "You always have a bag packed but you never have extra logs for a fire just in case the power should go out. Typical Marine. Duty first." I remember laughing at him, reminding him that in his extensive remodeling effort at his own place he had overlooked a fireplace for himself. He just flashed that damn flyboy grin at me and said, in all arrogance "Why do I need one? You have one here." I sigh and glance over to my briefcase by the door. I should call him, just in case the power is out on his side of town as well…

The power goes out just as I am finishing up my dishes, leaving only the moonlight streaming through the windows to illuminate my path to the couch. The snow seems to be falling in earnest now, the flakes like chunks of Styrofoam floating gracefully to the street below. It's deafeningly quiet as I sit here on my couch watching the snowfall. I hope she has the fire lit in her fireplace using those long-burning flame logs I bought her last weekend. She's probably curled up on her couch wrapped in that weird afghan Harriet made for her. I like to kid her about that afghan, just to see the her reaction.

It always amazes me how, when she is in a courtroom, she stands her ground and remains aloof no matter what happens. She's dispassionate in her dealings with the witnesses and defendants, passionate in her opening and closing statements, but there's always the reserved Colonel persona in place. But when she and I are together in the same room, she comes alive and every emotion plays across her features. When I can make her laugh, her face lights up with her sensual smile and those warm, brown eyes shine. But when she gets angry with me, her jaw sets and her eyes flash with sparks of fire and then she either chews my six or shuts me out entirely. Personally, I prefer it when she chews me out, the silent treatment is way more torturous to have to endure.

We're both alone tonight and I'm worried. What if her power is out on the other side of town? If it is, since my own cordless is dead without power, hers probably is too. I grab my cell phone to dial her number, just to hear her voice and make sure she's OK…hey, that's what Best Friend's are for, right?…

RING

That's my cell phone. I debate whether or not to unravel myself from my warm cocoon to answer it. I know who it is, he's checking up on me. I finally get up and make my way to my briefcase. I can't seem to stop smiling….

RING

Where the devil is she? She should be home by now. Answer your phone, I urge silently as I listen to the empty ringing in my ear, please answer and let me know you're OK.

RING

Where is that stupid thing? I thought I put it in the front pocket. I frantically search as the phone continues to ring. He's probably going to ream my sorry butt when I finally answer. Sighing, I dump all of the contents of the bag onto the floor. Of course, it's the last thing that drops out and the battery falls off on impact.

YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICEMAIL OF LIEUTENANT COLONEL SARAH MACKENZIE….

Her voice mail! Where is she? My mind is running full speed, tracing and retracing the route she takes from work to home. Where would she be? I turn off my phone to save the battery charge as I change into a pair of jeans and a dark fleece shirt. I need to get over to her place…Now!

RING

OK, Harm, I've got my shit together now. Please pick up.

RING

Why isn't he picking up? I know it was him on the phone before. I caught his caller ID.

RING

Harmon Rabb Jr., answer your stupid phone!

HI, YOU'VE REACHED COMMANDER HARMON RABB. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR NAME…

I leave my number as an alphanumeric message for him to call me back and I turn to find Jingo prancing in front of the door. His special indication that he needs to "go". I blow out the candles around the room and close the screen in front of the fire, just in case, even though we'll only be gone a few minutes to the park across the street.

Harm's voice mail greeting plays and replays in my mind. I love the way his voice sends sparks to my heart and a smile to my face. He's so comfortable and approachable, especially his voice. My voice mail - short, direct and to the point. His voice mail starts with a "Hi" and there's a "Please" in there somewhere to put the caller at ease. You can even hear the flyboy grin on his face. I was there when he set up the voice mail on his phone. We had been joking and laughing so much that it took six tries to finally get it right! I smile to myself at that memory as I tug on my boots and grab Jingo's leash.

It isn't until we are at the building entrance when I realize that I have forgotten my cell phone. Oh well, we'll only be gone a few minutes anyway.

As I am stuck at a light that seems endlessly red, I turn my phone on again to check for messages from Mac. The message light flashes at me and I check my voice mail and find only her number staring back at me. I know how much she hates voice mail, but inside I'm still worried. I just need to hear her voice. I try calling her back and let it ring and ring until her voice mail answers again. My hands grip the steering wheel until I am white knuckled with frustration. I glance up to find the red light still glaring down at me and I strike the steering wheel with the palm of my hand, trying to concentrate on the sting of pain it caused on my hand rather than my worry about Mac. It didn't work. Where the hell is she?

Finally the light turns green and in my frustration I hit the accelerator and skid on some black ice. Luckily I am able to control the skid before I hit the snow bank. My adrenaline is in overdrive with worry. I just need….her.

I release Jingo from his leash to let him romp in the snow as I brush off a space on a park bench to sit. Harm's face is etched in my thoughts. Flyboy grin and all. Sometimes he reminds me of the star football player in high school. You know, the one who was voted in all the "most likely to" categories in the yearbook and always seems to have a kind word for everyone, yet not enough time to get to know someone beyond "Hi, how are you?". I wasn't in that crowd in high school, but I never stopped daydreaming about wearing the letterman's jacket or wearing the huge class ring tied with ribbon to fit on my finger. But then again, isn't it every teenage girl's dream?

I hear a bark from Jingo and turn to find my dog sprinting into the street! I jump to my feet and run after him, calling for him at the top of my lungs, desperately afraid he's going to get hit or something. My feet hit the icy sidewalk and I immediately take flight, sailing through the air heading for a rather painful landing. My bottom connects first with the cold concrete, jarring the rest of my body, knocking the wind out of me. I lay back and cover my eyes as I hear footfalls coming my way and Jingo barking. I hope that the falling snow will hurry up and cover me, cover my embarrassment.

As I get out of my car parked in front of her building, I hear Jingo barking and turn to find him running toward me from across the street. He doesn't sound frantic, just happy to see me, so I figure everything must be OK and my heart manages to slow down a bit. Well, until I hear Mac's voice yelling for Jingo, sounding a bit frantic herself. Jingo and I start back across the street just in time to see her slip on the icy sidewalk and land on the concrete. I wince at her impact and I pick up speed to get to her. When I'm finally at her side, I can hear her groaning, lying there on her back, her hand over her eyes.

"That was quite a take-off, Mac," I tell her, trying to lighten up the situation, "But I think you need to work on your landing."

I am rewarded by the removal of her hand from her face and a glare at me with one eye open. Yeah, she's all right, I assure myself. I hold my hand out to her, an offer to help her up. She surprises me by reaching up and batting it away and turning her face away from me as well. It is the moment that I notice her tears. My heart sinks as I kneel down beside her, taking off my glove to brush the snowflakes from her cheek.

"Let's get you home, marine." I tell her. I pick her up from the ice; one arm securely under her knees, the other across her back and I hold her close to me. She's still crying softly in my arms as we make our way across the street and I am berating myself for the insensitive comment from before. Then I feel her arms go around my neck and her cold, wet cheek pressing against my neck as she hugs me to her….

"I'm here for you, Sarah. I'm not going anywhere."

I feel her move her head and then I feel the cold tip of her nose touch my earlobe as she whispers "Thank you." in my ear, her voice soft, her breath, warm.

The warmth of his skin feels wonderful against my chilled cheeks as he carries me to my apartment. I don't know what came over me after I fell. All the frustrations and worry and loneliness swept over me at once and I just snapped. I am embarrassed and miserable…and thanking God that Harm is here. He carries me all the way to my door and sets me down on my feet so I can pull the keys from my pocket. I can't bear for him to see me cry so I keep my eyes and face downcast as I slip the key into the lock. He calls my name…Sarah…and lifts my chin with his fingers. I lose myself in the concern and caring in his eyes and more tears threaten to fall. Suddenly I find myself caught up in a huge bear hug, his chin resting protectively on the top of my head. I have never felt so safe and secure as I surrender myself to his embrace.

I'm sitting here in front of the fire, watching her in the kitchen. The power is still out, but I can still see her silhouette from the combination of the candlelight and firelight. We have both gotten comfortable. I'm sitting here in my jeans and fleece shirt, my bare feet warming by the fire. She's changed into a pair of worn gray sweatpants and a long john under shirt. I wonder if she knows how much that material reveals, clinging to her like a second skin. It's tough to put two words together when she's dressed like that. Heck, there are times I can't remember my own name when she's dressed in her uniform! That's pretty bad.

She's been very quiet since we've been here together. Unfortunately, that's probably my fault. I read her the riot act about having her cell phone on or near her at all times. I couldn't help myself! I tried to explain how worried I was about her, then she argued back that she could take care of herself, then I argued right back and pointed out that she didn't answer my calls and then she tried to explain how she couldn't remember where she put the phone. And then I practically threw it in her face that if she had kept the phone within reach, she would have known where it was and none of this would have happened! Smooth move, Rabb. Now she is giving me the hated silent treatment and I only have myself to blame.

I reach behind me and grab a pillow from the couch and settle it between my legs. She emerges from the kitchen with two bottles of water and offers me one. I take the bottle from her hand and set it next to me on the floor. I actually dare to grasp her hand and pull her down to me. I handle her gently, easing her down to sit between my legs on the pillow and lean back against me. She's going to have a nasty bruise in the morning on that perfect posterior so I handle her with care, because I don't want her on the couch (where she'd probably be way more comfortable), selfishly, I want her in my arms. I want her so badly, I don't know if I can hold back anymore.

I deserved every bit of the lecture he gave me. I knew he would chew my six, but it really was cute how he tried to not make it sound like a dressing down, so to speak. It still stung, and I really wanted to lash back after his last remark about my being irresponsible by not having the cell phone accessible, but I picked up on the worry in his voice and I knew he was just as worried about me as I was for him. I grab the bottles of water quickly from the fridge so as not to let too much of the cold out since the power's still off. The irony of it all is that my apartment is getting quite chilly, except for just in front of the fireplace where Harm sits after stoking the fire to inferno status. I glance over at him in time to catch him grabbing a pillow from the couch and settling it between his legs. I know what he's doing and I thank him silently for reading my mind. I admire his profile as he pensively stares into the fire. I've often found myself feeling my way over his features as if with my fingers instead of just my eyes. His strong jaw line, the firmness of his cheeks, the stubbornness of his chin. Sometimes I ache inside with the need to touch him, an urge I fight tooth and nail not to give in to, and I feel at a loss when I hold back. I'm in love with him, but that's not enough.

I wander out as if I don't suspect a thing and I offer him a bottle of water. He takes it from me and then reaches for my hand. I give in without a fight and I can sense the surprise of my easy acquiescence in his eyes. He cradles me down to him with his large, warm hands as if I'm something fragile and his gentleness touches me. He settles my body back against him and I know what heaven is like - being in his arms surrounded by the heat emanating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne. The warmth of the fire, the warmth of Harm comforts me and I am content to stay here for the rest of the night, for the rest of my life.

I can feel each breath she takes and I am nearly beside myself with her nestled like this in my arms. I draw lazy circles on her knee as we both sit in silence with only the crackle of the fire as a break of the stillness surrounding us. I can feel her firm skin beneath my touch and the heat from her body is driving me to distraction. She sets her bottled water down next to mine and captures my hand in hers, tracing my fingers with her own. I am surprised and pleased by the intimacy of her touch, but I remain silent. She presses her palm against mine and I am amazed at how small her hands are compared to mine. I feel her turn her head toward my face and I see her smile.

"I always wondered about this." She says, in a whisper, almost as if she's afraid someone will overhear. I smile at her and lace my fingers loosely with hers, drawing her hand to my lips to place small kisses on each of her fingers. Her eyes widen in surprise as she watches me, I can see the question in her eyes.

"I've always wondered about this." I murmur as I lean to kiss her lips. She doesn't pull away as I feared she would. No, she leans in to me and the contact becomes a needing, exploratory kiss that makes me tremble. I drop her hand and graze her cheek with my palm as it travels to tangle my fingers in the soft hair at the back of her neck. So soft.

My heart races as his lips cover mine. I should stop. But I'm not pulling back this time. I need him, so badly. I'm not dressed in a Navy uniform this time, there is no mistaken identity. There's no mistletoe above our heads, there's no mitigating circumstances. This is just Harm and I, letting go together.

I feel his hand against my cheek, then the strength of his fingers in my hair, pulling me even closer. I turn to him fully now, maneuvering to straddle his hips, his hands taking my lead, resting on either side of my own hips, settling me on top of him. I can feel his hands knead into me as we continue to kiss and my hands find their way to guide his head as I slant my mouth over and over onto his. I try to keep the pace slow and controlled as I savor the taste of him, the texture of his tongue rolling slowly with mine. My body shakes as I strain to keep the slowed rhythm and I feel him tremble as well beneath me, his arousal now evident. I sigh into his mouth as I cradle his captive length with myself, my hips teasing with their own rhythm against him. I want this man more than I want to breath and I am ready to let him know me, not Mac, not the marine colonel, his best friend, but me, Sarah, the woman who loves him more than life itself. I pull away using his shoulders as leverage and I find his bemused expression and parted lips an intoxicating sight. I cross my arms between us and grasp the bottom of my shirt and slowly pull it up and over my head, baring my upper body to him, leaving nothing but the space between us as I hold my breath waiting for his next move. Silently praying.

I nearly lose all control as I watch her peel her shirt up and off of her. Her heavy, full, perfect breasts now bare to my gaze. I take in their perfection with a child-like awe as my hands raise to allow my fingers to trace the graceful outline of their fullness with the lightest of touches. I see her close her eyes and ease her head back, allowing her breasts to arch forward, fully into my eager palms. I can take the temptation no more and I cup one and lower my mouth over its erect tip, lingering over its soft, but firm texture. The heady scent of her perfume invades the haze my mind has become and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer as I suckle firmly, taking her into my mouth further. I hear her moan softly and feel her hips buck against mine as I feel the pain from my own body, straining against the denim. I hear her gasp as I switch my attention to her other breast, leaving the wet tip of the fist exposed to the chill of the room. I can't get enough of her.

The sensations he's creating are making my head swim. When he pauses and switches sides I am nearly lost. No other man has ever touched me this way. I am, all at once, frightened and tantalized by him, by my reaction to him. My head seems so heavy, I can't raise it. My fingers find themselves gripping the fleece material at his shoulders like a lifeline as I drown with the waves of pleasure washing over me. I feel him pull away and I panic inside, my head snapping up in time to watch him grasp his shirt behind his neck and pull the dark fleece barrier over his head to toss it away. Then he pulls my body to his own, letting our heat mingle, our skin to touch without tether.

"Stand up for me." I ask.

I feel her tense a moment then I help her to her feet. I adjust myself to kneel before her, turning her around to face the fire as I revel in the smooth lines of her back and the gentle slope of her backside. Tucking my fingers under the waistband of her sweat pants, I ease them down her hips past her legs, allowing her to step out of them then I toss them aside. I press my lips to the firm roundness of her hip and bottom as my hands roam on her thighs, rubbing up and down in slow sensual strokes. I find the budding bruise and I gently try to kiss away the pain. I hear her whimper and I am contrite, pulling away.

"Harm, please, don't stop." she says with a sigh. I smile to myself as I continue with soft kisses, letting my lips trail paths along her as I find and explore new places I have not yet paid homage to.

I can feel her tremble beneath my fingers, beneath my lips and it excites me to no end. I raise the strokes of my hands from her legs to include her waist and I trace the outer portions of her breasts, lingering in my descent to count each rib silently to myself. I take her hips in my hands once again and turn her to face me. I feel her hands in my hair as she moans softly. I stop and look up at her, finding her hot, sultry gaze locking with mine.

Slowly a smile spreads across her face, "Stand up for me."

His compliance to my wishes emboldens me a bit as I unbutton his jeans and unzip the fly, letting my fingers roam around his waist just under the elastic of his boxers. I can feel his abdomen flex beneath my fingers in reaction to my touch. I lean forward to his chest and kiss his warm skin as my fingers continue their journey around his middle. I hear his sharp intake of breath at the contact of my tongue against his neck. I can feel the strain of his control as he is gripping my upper arms tightly as he is watching my every movement, fighting to remain still.

He begins to shake and I reach up to capture his face in my hands and draw him down to my lips for a deep hard kiss that is a result of the building passion he has inspired within me. Then I break away and bite along his jaw line, the small whiskers of his five o'clock shadow scratching against my teeth, their texture teasing my tongue. He is now growling out of frustration or passion, I don't know which, nor do I care. I am like a live wire at this point; every part of my body is in a constant state of arousal, in tune to his every reaction, his every touch.

I guide my hands down along his neck and shoulders, then traversing his chest down to his waist. I tuck my hands beneath the denim and cotton fabric and divest him, slowly, from their confines. I lower my body, trailing kisses along a path down the front of him as my hands continue to push his clothing to the floor. I stop kissing just at his navel as I hear his breathing grow ragged. I glance up to find his eyes closed, and sweat beading at his brow.

For years he has driven me crazy with that gorgeous grin of his and now I feel a bit of redemption. He is putty in my hands. I tap his ankle and he steps out of the puddle of clothes. I toss them aside to join my own. I begin to run my fingers up the insides of his legs as I adjust to kneel before him.

"I can't take much more of this, Baby."

He says this in such a soft, calm voice, belying the blatant desire reflected in his eyes. There it is, that Rabb charm…and here I go, letting myself fall…

She stands up and walks away with only a wink and a smile to let me know that I am to wait here. Femininity exudes from her as I watch her walk into her bedroom, sashaying across the floor, her body resplendent in the soft light all around the room. This is my marine, I keep reminding myself as I stare unabashedly. I can feel my mouth hanging open. Sad. Pathetic. And so in love with her that I cannot see straight…

She comes back out with a comforter in her arms and together we spread it out on the floor in front of the fireplace. I kneel down first, my hand held out to her in silent invitation. She kneels down in front of me and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, burying my face into her neck. Exploring once again with my tongue, I taste her skin and feel her shiver in my arms. I continue to nibble, holding her against me with one hand and searching for the errant pillow from before with my other.

I finally grab the edge of the pillow and set it behind her. I press against her with my body drawing her back into my steadying arms as I lower her back onto the comforter, her hips resting back on the pillow. She reaches for me and I settle myself between her legs and cover her body with my own. I kiss her tenderly on the tip of her nose, then across each cheek, her chin, then her forehead and finally her lips. I feel her legs wrap around my hips and I ease into her slowly. I am afraid to keep going to satisfy my own desires; no one I've ever been with has been able to handle all of me. I press in as far as I dare, holding back. Suddenly her legs tighten and I am thrust all the way inside of her. She completes me in every way.

Urging me on with her soft moans and shallow breathing I join her in a rhythm that leaves neither of us exempt from participation. At one moment I am on top of her thrusting, slowly, holding her hands above her head, then the next she has managed to become the victor, setting her own pace on top of me. It does not take a genius to know I was not going to last long this first time. We find our release together only seconds after she takes the initiative and the pace. I call out her name, losing her in the aftermath of the explosions wracking my body.

She collapses on top of me, her breathing uneven, and her body glistening with a light sweat. I reach up behind us to the couch, trying valiantly not to break the spell of the afterglow, not to jostle her too much or to disentangle her from me. I search with my hands along the cushions until I find Harriet's afghan. I grasp it in my hand and pull it down over us, covering her shivering body. I settle my arms around her on top of the multi-colored crocheted squares. Her head is resting against my chest, nestled just under my chin. I turn my head from side to side in slow strokes, marveling at the softness of her hair against my face. To be totally honest, I could have never in my wildest dreams imagined how good this feels to have her in my arms. Not that making love with her was not the most mind-blowing experience I have ever had in my life. In retrospect, I don't think there is any comparison to my experiences of the past. I now know what making love truly is; the others were merely practice.

I feel her breathing become even slower, deeper and I know she is close to drifting away to sleep.

"Sarah, baby, I need to tell you something…."

My hands rub up and down the length of her back as I try not to be distracted by her hand upon my chest, whose fingers are driving me wild by tangling gently amongst the hairs there.

"Sarah…." I again try to capture her attention. I know she is ignoring me on purpose, I can feel her body shake with repressed laughter.

"OK, I give up. What's so funny?" I ask pointedly. I am steadily getting agitated, yet I cannot hold back a smile at her obvious mirth.

"It's not that anything is funny, Harm. I am just realizing that I'm happier right now than I ever have been in my life." She finishes her explanation by looking up at me with those beautiful, liquid, brown eyes.

"I love you, you know." Her eyes lose their mischievous gleam to be replaced by a solemn gaze, as solemn as the sound of her voice as she says these words to me. I know she means every word.

"I was going to say it first." I tell her, my voice and tone matching hers. I tell her this just so she knows that it is from my heart and not just a reaction to her words of before. We've danced that dance before and I am never revisiting that pain again.

"I know", she assures me, leaning up to kiss me softly, cupping my face in her hands, "So if you want to chance saying it now, I'd love to hear it." Her smile is soft, her eyes back to sparkling with an inner fire full of pleasure and anticipation.

"I love you, Sarah."

His voice is calm and certain as the words I have yearned for so long to hear fall from his lips with such intensity that I know I have been left no room for doubt. Again, I bring his lips to mine for a thorough and lingering kiss.

"I need to go check on Jingo" I tell him as I stand and wrap the afghan around me.

As I watch her walk away to her bedroom I realize that I am really starting to like that weird afghan of hers…

I walk back into the living room with Jingo at my side to find that Harm has done some rearranging of the furniture. He's moved the couch in front of the fireplace and has draped the comforter over it. He's lying there waiting for me, quite the vision with his hands behind his head, a delicious grin on his face, still naked. The absence of modesty does not surprise me; then again, nothing surprises me when it comes to this man.

I stand at her entrance and take her hand in mine pulling her on top of me of me and settle her onto my chest, her legs now nestled between mine. Though she is still wrapped up in the afghan, which now covers us both, I flip the edge of the down comforter over us and we cuddle together in its warmth. I slip my arms underneath both blankets and hug her body to mine.

"Sweet dreams, Sarah…"

"I love you, Flyboy," she sighs, contentedly and I know she is losing the battle to keep her eyes open. I am starting to feel the same way. The combination of the heat from the fire and the downy warmth of the blanket as well as a heady sense of belonging finally to the one person I will love for the rest of my life has taken its toll and I am exhausted.

"I love you too, baby." And with a final, soft kiss to her forehead I surrender myself to sleep…

I sit in front of the couch and watch them, curiously. I hear her sigh and see her smile as he tells her of his love and then all is quiet. With the fire warming my fur and the assurance that she is finally happy, I lay down here and fall asleep guarding not only her, but him as well.

All is finally as it should be…