Dream A Little Dream
Title: Dream A Little Dream
Author: mm_thibault
Rating: NC-17 So seriously not kidding.
Spoilers: Mostly Seasons 1 and 2
Summary: A one shot trip to Mary's smut-tastic subconscious. For the record, Marshall wears Bvlgari AQVA which is oh, so sexy and perfect for him.
Pairing: Mary/Marshall
Shoutout: To Bujyo for her endless help and siapom for the cologne suggestions.
A/N: A foofy thought and a few thousand conversations after my forray back into fic, and here it is. Spicy like hotwings with out a drink to be found. You've been warned.
Mary knew the day he’d changed colognes. It was this past Monday, because that’s when the dreams started. They started the same each time, in her darkened bedroom in the dead of night, he was there with her. She’d notice him leaning against the door jam, no shirt, never a shirt, just jeans, boots, and the god-awful belt buckle that could double as a serving tray.
The light of the hallway behind him showed him off well, the shadows highlighting his numerous planes and hollows. She never really saw him without a shirt, but she’d hugged him enough to know that underneath that staid exterior of button down shirts and Western-cut jackets, he was cut, like fine crystal.
He’d walk in and join her on the bed, and they’d talk. About nothing and everything, but the conversations weren’t the part of the dream that held her spellbound and left her breathless, even during the day. It was the way he looked at her, traced the side of her face with fingers that were tentative, but steady. The way he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth before settling his lips over hers.
The first night, that in itself had been so startling that she woke up, her mouth tingling and her heart pounding in her ears. She’d gone to work the next day and not spoken of it, but caught herself staring at his mouth more than once, and just wondering.
Of course, every time she was near him, the first thing she noticed was the scent. It was darker, more nuanced than what he normally wore. Something about it just made her hormones sit up and scream, “Oh hell yeah!” and that was completely the wrong train of thought when dealing with Marshall, her partner, her best and only friend.
The next night, when he kissed her in the dream, his hand moved to the back of her neck, playing in her hair. He could kiss, oh man, could he kiss. His tongue tangling with hers had her nipples stiff and straining against the thin cotton of her nightshirt, awaiting his touch. He nibbled at her jaw and his hand moved slowly to her shoulder, down her arm, grazing the side of her breast. She couldn’t help but move against it. His hot breath in her ear as he spoke was unbelievably arousing. “I can give you want you want. Let me.”
The words gave her pause, and she awoke, again affected and confused. This was Marshall, the man in the rocket ship pyjamas. Marshall, who had a collection of action figures that would never be removed from their packages. This was the same Marshall, a little voice in her mind reminded her, who kicked in doors regularly and stood up to shoot back after taking one in the chest, who hunted down gang members by himself after she’d been shot.
The next day at work was no better. She found herself working to concentrate on doing a witness intake, something that was as natural to her as breathing. Only, sitting next to her partner meant breathing in his scent, and she caught herself listening to his voice, listening for the echoes of the dream from the night before.
That night, she’d fallen asleep on the couch, forgoing the bed in favor of watching an old movie from the 40’s. He appeared in the doorway of her dream room like clockwork, as soon as her eyes drifted shut, only instead of waiting for him to come to her, she met him there. The first touch was her hand in his hair, so soft to the touch, then down his strong neck to his shoulders. Both hands now in play, she touched at will and he let her. Across his chest he was all muscle, chiseled and hard, yet his skin was so soft and warm. He smelled so damn good; she stretched on her toes and pressed her nose to his neck, smiling at his ragged breathing. Letting her explore was challenging him, and she liked it. It was heady; knowing that all that barely leashed power was hers for the asking.
He set his hands lightly on her hips as she continued her exploration. She licked up the side of his neck to his earlobe, reveling in his low growl of warning. Marshall would never hurt her, she knew that in her soul, but the idea of him getting aggressive was intriguing, if she was honest with herself. She ran her hands down his sides, enjoying every bump and ridge that her fingertips encountered. When she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and pulled him against her, shoulder to knee, he snapped.
Marshall grabbed her wrists and walked her back into the wall until she was smashed between him and the unyielding drywall. His mouth on hers, devouring her lips and her breathy moans as he moved her arms until they were over her head and he could hold her wrists in one hand. He was infinitely gentle, letting her know by his touch that she could stop him at any time, but then he was tracing a ticklish path down her arm to her nightshirt that was worn thin from years of washing.
His hand on her breast was warm, reverent as he cupped its fullness, his thumb rubbing back and forth across the sensitive tip in a lazy motion. He kissed her then, a kiss of possession, of fulfillment, of something that she dare not hope for. His arousal was tantalizing as it pressed against her low on her belly. She wanted to touch him, and yet, liked that he had control of the situation for the moment. His lips soft against her neck, his breath so warm it made her shiver. She hadn’t noticed she’d closed her eyes until they flew open on a startled gasp at the feel of the moist heat of his tongue against her nipple through her shirt. He looked up at her, pleased that he’d drawn that reaction from her. The wink right before he took the hardened tip into his mouth was enough to make her knees weak.
The hand that had been supporting her breast moved lazily to her side, down each individual rib like he was taking inventory, until finally stopping at her waist. He switched to her other breast, lavishing the same extremely focused attention on it, while his fingers teased the tie on the front of her pants. Part of her wanted him to just get on with it, but mostly she didn’t want to rush him.
Marshall slowly straightened up in front of her, tilting her chin up as he brushed his lips over hers. It was a whisper of a touch, enough to make her actively struggle against his restraint of her wrists. He released her immediately, and she brought one hand to his neck, bringing his mouth fully down to hers, her other hand on his belt, hauling him against her. His hum of pleasure vibrated through her.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his breathing labored. His lips swollen and shiny from their ardent kisses. "Mary," his voice was that deep timbre that made her stomach clench in anticipation. She held her breath as his fingers moved under the waistband of her pants, sliding inside her panties.
"Marshall..." she moaned his name as his fingers made contact with her heated skin, finding her slippery and oh so ready for him. His smile was pure male triumph as he feathered a touch over her clit.
Mary awoke with his name on her lips, turned on, disoriented, and bewildered as to why she was still on the couch and not in her room. She grabbed her trash and walked it to her kitchen on unsteady legs. It was all she could do not to call him. Normally when she couldn't sleep, he could be counted on for a conversation, a torrent of trivia in his late-night voice that would soothe her frayed nerves and lull her into peaceful slumber. There was nothing peaceful about the thoughts she was having about him now.
By Thursday, she could barely look at him without blushing. Marshall had asked about her behavior in the car but she'd shrugged it off, attributing her mood to lack of sleep. He'd murmured his sympathies and launched into a dissertation on ancient remedies for insomnia, which would have been fine if she hadn't been in the surprisingly tiny confines of the GMC and forced to inhale his hormone inciting cologne with every breath.
Part of her had started look forward to nightly trysts, even if they were just made of the ephemeral stuff of dreams. Her subconscious did not disappoint. He was there almost as soon as she shut her eyes. Lithe frame leaning in the door, Marshall looked over her with predatory curiosity. She was bold tonight, meeting him in the doorway with a kiss that communicated all her words could not. Her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist pulling her to him, the only time they separated was to strip off her shirt and throw it in the general direction of the hamper.
The first touch of skin on skin damn near seared her to the bone. Her breasts flattening against the hard wall of his chest, his arms cradling her to him as he walked her back the few steps to the wall. She idly wondered what his fascination was with the upright making out, but she wasn't complaining. Especially when he was tugging at the stays of her pyjama pants and they floated down her legs and pooled around her feet along with her panties.
“Magnificent.” He breathed the word as he stepped back a little and took in her naked form. The look in his luminous blue eyes was as potent as a physical caress. He touched her face with reverent fingertips, starting at her forehead, her eyes drifting shut as he stroked her cheeks, her lips, her jaw. He continued worshiping her with his fingertips, down her neck and her chest. His tactile quest stalled out at her waist.
“What’s wrong?” Mary took his face in both hands and brought his eyes to her. The sheer awe and exaltation in his gaze was almost overwhelming. She shifted from foot to foot, eventually kicking away the last of her clothes.
He grinned widely and kissed her forehead. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Then touch me.”
He shook his head and his fingers flexed against her hip. “I had a better idea.” He knelt on the floor in front of her, running his hand from her hip down to her knee. “So soft.” Kissing her above her kneecap made a shiver race up her spine. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile. “I haven’t even started yet.”
Marshall lifted her knee, kissed the inside of her thigh and hooked her leg over his shoulder. What the hell…? Her hand came to his head as he lifted her other knee, leaving her completely supported by his shoulders and his hands under her ass. Thank god for the wall.
Happy with his handiwork, he set about blowing her mind. The first touch of his tongue was like fire covered in velvet. She arched away from the wall, grinding up against his lips and tongue, and he didn’t even flinch. How the hell had she managed to miss this beast in him? And God help her, she liked it, a lot.
She shamelessly rode the sensations, taking all he had to give while he held her. He was relentless in the pursuit of her pleasure, though that shouldn’t have surprised her considering he was that way in all facets of his life. In no time at all he had her on the brink, grabbing his hair, swearing, begging. He seemed to enjoy keeping her poised on the razor’s edge while he got drunk on the taste of her.
Mary woke up in the throes of an orgasm, her body throbbing and on fire. She blinked into the darkness, trying to concentrate on evening out her breathing and sorting out her thoughts. For the first time in a long time, she gave serious thought to calling in to work the next day. She could not go on like this… but, she was also not going to be chased from the one thing in life that brought her normalcy, as twisted as it was, especially by a dream.
Her resolve to just put it behind her and ignore it crumbled when he walked through the doors of the office bearing coffee and cream horns. Who in their right mind could resist a man bearing cream-filled delicacies and caffeinated beverages? Those, and the cologne scent on his freshly showered skin and she had to admit, she was just not that strong.
She made it through the day on sheer willpower, coming home to take a dip in the pool in an effort to cool off, literally and figuratively. Five laps in, she was tired, but a little more centered, since now all she could smell was chlorine and coconut oil.
She was just stepping out of the shower when she heard a knock at the front door. "In a minute," she hollered as she haphazardly threw on clothes. The knocking sounded again. "I'll be there in a minute, dammit!"
Pulling her tank top down over her weapon, Mary jerked open the door, and was immediately assaulted by the wonderful mixed aroma of Marshall and Chinese food. "Jesus, Marshall. Why the hell are you beating down my door?" He'd gone home and changed, now dressed in a faded red UNM Lobos shirt, jeans and a pair of Converse that had seen better days.
Marshall blinked at her with a furrowed brow. He held up the plastic bags in his hands as an explanation. "I knocked twice, which in my mind does not constitute a beat down."
"Get in here, nitwit." She stood out of the way as he walked inside, giving her concerned sideways glances. Mary had planned on spending the evening alone, working out some sort of plan in her head for dealing with the acute case of Marshall Lust with which she was currently afflicted.
Marshall set the bags on the counter and started divvying up the containers of food. "Cashew chicken for you, General Tso's for me, pork fried rice for both of us..."
Mary eyed her partner suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Marshall shrugged and walked over to her cabinets to retrieve plates and silverware. "You've been a little... off the past couple days, and I just thought this might help. Did you know the General Tso, or Zuo Zongt’ang as he was known, never even had the chicken that bears his name?"
“And why do I keep you around again?” She snorted in laughter, not really meaning to mock his kind-hearted gesture, but Mary had a pretty good idea what would help, and it had nothing at all to do with fried rice. “Thank you.” She meant that, somehow he always knew how to take care of her, even when she wasn’t all that sure she wanted him to do so.
He ducked his head when he smiled, giving him this aura of little boy charm. “I brought a movie, too, if you wanted.” He grabbed his plate and the two remaining bags on the counter and took them over to the coffee table.
Mary groaned out loud. Marshall’s choice in movies either bored her to sleep or drove her to drink. It was exceedingly rare that their cinematic choices coincided. She sat on the couch and took the beer he offered her. “Ok, I’ll bite, what horrible sci-fi crap are you subjecting me to now?”
Marshall looked affronted as he got up from the couch and walked over to the DVD player. “It’s not all horrible, but since I know that’s not your style, I got something I know you like.” He put the disc in and walked back over to his seat on the couch. Mary was shocked when he took the remote from her and took over her TV.
“I’m sorry, we got married when? Give me back my remote.”
Marshall waved off her irritation. “Just sit there, eat your dinner and watch the movie.”
Mary did what she was told; especially once she saw that it was ‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’. Much like pie, Brad Pitt went a long way towards making everything better. The fact that Marshall had done this for her when she knew he was not a big fan of the movie, well, that was just one more thing to add to the growing list of reasons as to why her dreams were taking over her waking life.
When the movie ended, she got up to take their plates into the kitchen. Marshall was hot on her heels, collecting their empty beer bottles and discarded containers. There was something nice about a man who knew how to clean up after himself. She was rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher when he inadvertently brushed behind her on his way to the trash. Full body contact that had her eyes falling shut and her breath catching. In her dream he was behind her kissing her neck, running his hand from her waist to her breast.
Marshall touched her arm gently and she jumped. “Ok, really. What is going on with you? I’m starting to think that more than a little concern is warranted.”
Her cheeks pinkened at the idea that he almost busted her mid-fantasy. She concentrated on the dishes in front of her to buy some time. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that his blue eyes were darkened in the harsh kitchen light and brows were drawn down in concern. For her, always for her. He leaned back against the center island in her kitchen, bracing his arms on the counter top beside him. He was the picture of openness. Again, always for her, without question. “You said yesterday that you weren’t sleeping. Is that what this is about?”
Mary set the dish she was working on in the sink and dried her hands before turning to face him. She looked up at the ceiling, rolling her lips between her teeth while she decided what she was going to tell him. I’ve been having hot, sweaty, nekkid dreams about my best friend all week and I’m seriously contemplating jumping his bones just didn’t seem like a reasonable place to start. At the same time, she didn’t want to lie, so she settled on half an answer. “Yeah, that’s been it. I’m just not getting enough sleep at night this week.”
“Any particular reason?”
The care for her that he so effortlessly gave shone through in his tone and made her want to tell him more than anything. “I’ve been having these dreams.” What? No! That was not what she had meant to say.
Curiosity joined concern in his expression. “What kind of dreams?”
She knew Marshall would have absolutely no trouble interpreting her dreams. Hell, she was pretty sure Ray Charles could interpret the images in her head at this point with no problems. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back over to the couch, she didn’t have to look back to know that he had followed suit. She could barely look at him at work and now here she was about to tell him what was on her mind and she was terrified to see him look at her. She pulled her legs up on the couch and turned to use them as a shield between them. She studied her fingernails, lamenting that there wasn’t anything there for her to bite right now.
“Mary,” he waited until he could hold her gaze over her knees, “talk to me. Is it the same dream every time? Are they frightening? What kind of dreams?”
“Yes to the first question, no to the second.” God. Why had she started this conversation?
He leaned a little closer to her. “And the third?”
She curled her toes into the fabric of the couch, wanting so badly to hide from him, from this. Taking a swig of beer to stay her nerves, she said, “Those kind of dreams.”
He looked confused for all of a second. “Those? Oh!” Comprehension dawned all at once as he sat back. “Those… oh.”
Watching Marshall put it all together in his head was interesting to see. It was lightening fast as the little expressions raced over his features. She didn’t know what else to say without saying everything to him. She picked at a fuzzy on the couch and took another sip of her beer. She couldn’t remember a moment when she’d been more open with another person.
Marshall turned to face her on the couch, stretching his long arm along the back, not touching but close. “About anyone in particular?” his voice was a little deeper, closer to the man in her dreams, near enough to send her nerves into a mini-riot.
He probably didn’t notice her noticing him adjusting his jeans. He was a guy, that kind of thing was natural, but on him, it was very obvious. Apparently he was he was warming to the topic at hand, if the area behind his zipper was any indication. “I…” her voice failed her. She took a drink, and then another. “You,” she said finally. “They’re about you.”
Marshall’s eyes rounded at her admission and blinked very slowly, like he was trying to absorb a great shock. “Oh.”
Mary’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at his lack of reaction. “You’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? Ever?” She knew damn well that was a lie. The one kiss they’d shared had sold him out completely in that regard.
He shook his head, still not blinking, “No, not at all. I’ve thought about it, more than once, but I never thought you’d…”
The shame and mortification became crushing. “Well, now you do.” She got up off the couch and stalked out to the backyard for some air. Why? Why had she said anything? God, this was awkward. Dammit, this was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen.
She didn’t know how long she’d been out there, just feeling the concrete against the soles of her feet, listening to the quiet of the night and the sounds of a neighborhood retiring for the evening. His scent gave away his position behind her, wrapping around her like a comforting hug, and she smiled. The benefit of being downwind.
“So I’m curious.” His voice was rough caress against her ear. She’d had no idea he was that close and the sound of him, so like his voice in her dreams, was enough to set her nerves alight.
Mary didn’t even have an urge to turn around and face him. She was still too embarrassed, especially considering now she was mortified and completely turned on by his very presence. “Haven’t I assuaged enough of your curiosities for one evening?”
“Not hardly.” His hand on her shoulder made her stiffen, but only for a moment as he drew it down her arm and laced his fingers with hers.
She felt his chest against her back and took a step back into him, a conditioned reflex of her subconscious. Her head laid against his shoulder as his hand rested at her waist, playing with the hem of her tank top. “So what do you want to know?”
“In these dreams, what do we do?” His voice was little more than a gravelly rumble in his chest as he spoke into her hair. The hand at her waist had worked his way under her shirt and his fingers were caressing her side.
Pressed as closely to him as she was, she had to fight the desire to rub against his hardness nudging at the small of her back. She turned in his arms and looked up at him, looked at him in the face for the first time in a week. Blue eyes turned black in the last vestiges of the evening gave him a look that was nowhere close to the docile creature she normally saw.
Mary reached up and brushed the bangs off his forehead and he closed his eyes at the light brush of her fingertips. She continued down his face, to his aquiline nose, austere cheekbones, Cupid’s bow mouth. She touched his lips and they opened beneath her fingertips on a ragged breath. “I think,” she said as her other hand slid up the back of his neck to play in his hair, “it would work better if I showed you.”
Marshall’s tongue snaked out and flicked the pad of her thumb, causing her breath to catch. “Whatever you want. I’ll just follow your lead.” Her mind went to the only kiss they’d shared, in a stable with armed assassins fifteen feet away. He had been willing to throw down and go for it, regardless of the setting. For her, it was always for her.
She led him through the house, shutting off lights as she went. When she got to the hall though, she left that one on. He followed behind closely, not touching but if she reached back, she would find him there. They paused as she came to the doorway of her room.
“Ok, now what?” He sounded like a kid at Christmas, ready to tear into the presents at the slightest provocation.
Mary turned and looked him over. “Lose the shirt.”
He was quick to oblige as he grabbed a handful of shirt behind his neck, yanked it over his head and dropped it on the floor next to him. Her brain stumbled at the sight of him in person. He was just gorgeous, perfectly sculpted yet soft and warm to the touch, oh how she wanted to touch. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, over his ribs, his stomach that was practically vibrating with his efforts at holding back.
“No belt.” She’d never seen him without one, ever, at least not that she could recollect. Her mind kept getting stuck on the little details, like the fact that the lack of belt made the incredible hard on he’d yet to mention look that much more impressive.
Marshall hooked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes back up to his. “There was a dress code in your dream?”
"Go with it." She cupped the front of his jeans, feeling the decently sized ridge behind his zipper. Her name fell from his lips on a sharp intake of breath. She smiled and brushed her lips across his chest.
He grabbed her wrist firmly to still her hand. "Whoa whoa whoa. I thought we were doing your dream, not mine."
Ooh, there was a thought. "We'll do yours next time."
The smile he gave her was soft, full of affection. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lingering on her neck beneath her ear. "Whatever you want. What's next?"
It was hard to think with the distracting patterns he was tracing on her neck. "Kiss me."
"I thought you'd never ask." Threading his fingers through her hair, he gently cradled the back of her head as he lowered his mouth to hers, giving her every chance to stop this. Like she would.
The first kiss was light, barely a touch before he pulled back and searched her eyes again. Mary put her hand on his chest over his heart, feeling it pound against her palm. That was all the encouragement he needed to back her up the last few inches to the wall by the strength of his kiss alone.
God, if she was ever grateful for this attention to detail... his tongue slipped past her lips, twining with hers as he stepped closer to her, his leg between hers, providing some tantalizing friction when she was already so close to coming.
Marshall pulled back with both of them breathing hard, and it was a race to see who could get her shirt and bra off the fastest.
The look in his eyes was better than any dream. He reached up hesitantly and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the hard little nipple. Emboldened by her moan of encouragement, he bent his head to take her into his mouth, teasing her with gentle sucking and flicks of his tongue.
The image of his mouth on her as he looked up at her and winked will forever be burned into her brain. His other hand was on the button of her jeans, making quick work of getting them off her and to their rightful place, the floor. He looked down enjoying the view as his hand slid into her panties.
Mary's eyes closed at the feel of his fingers, beautifully dextrous fingers as they touched her most intimate places, and doing so like he knew exactly what she did herself when she was alone. His voice was in her ear then, whispering the filthiest, naughtiest things and she couldn't help but tumble over the edge, calling his name as he kept up his assault, driving her relentlessly to her second orgasm in just as many minutes.
Her legs sagged out from under her then, and he swept her up, depositing her carefully in the bed, where she lay like an errant silk scarf caught by the wind. "The pants." She gestured in his general direction.
One of the best thing about Marshall was the fact that it was a damn rare occasion that he needed to be told twice. This was not one of those times. The pants and shoes vanished like smoke and he stretched over her. Though it took some effort, she spread her lifeless legs to accommodate him and pulled him down on top of her in a kiss. The feel of him, all of him, drove the lethargy from her limbs. She rubbed against him shamelessly, his cock pressing against her slick center.
He tore his mouth away from hers and bumped her nose with his. "Stop. You're killing me."
Mary brought his mouth back down to hers. "Then I suggest you do something about it."
Again, he was only happy to oblige, pulling her knee up high against his hip and positioning himself at her entrance. "Fast or slow?"
Her dreams had already been reduced to ashes by reality, but this was unbelievable. Only he would stop at this crucial moment to see what she needed. "Whatever you want, Cowboy, just ride."
He answered her with a kiss as he pushed slowly inside her, giving her time to adjust, and evidently there was quite a bit to adjust to.
"Damn, Marshall. Holding out on me?" She bit his neck to try and break his concentration.
He flashed her a tense grin, "Never." He set a pace that could only be described as athletic, giving her everything he had, peppering her face and neck with kisses and bites as he neared his own completion.
Her normally sedate partner had become the exotic animal he'd claimed her to be, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down to her, her lips by his ear. "Come for me, Marshall. Please."
That broke him, had him burying his face in her neck as he found his release, a low moan torn from his throat. They stayed that way for a while, both catching their breath. Finally he flopped over to the opposite side of the bed and threw an arm over his face. “I think,” he heaved a huge sigh, “I think we deviated from the script.”
Mary smiled and curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder and one leg thrown over his. “Actually, I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
Marshall’s laugh was quiet but rumbled through both of them. “Oh, good to know then.”
She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Her eyelids grew heavy as she lay there listening to the strong and steady beat of his heart in her ear. Somehow, she knew that tonight, her sleep would be dreamless, and really, she was okay with that.