12 Days, Day 12: New Years Resolutions, Chapter 2
Title: New Years Resolutions
Author: tilley_girl
Characters/Pairing: Mary/Marshall
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An invitation issued, a challenge received, a countdown begun...
Warning: Slight sexual references
Author’s Note: Originally posted on ff.net for New Years, in case this looks familiar. But it fits for the 12 Days...
Chapter 2 - The Kiss
Marshall came up behind Mary as she was making her way to the coat check, ready to escape. He grasped her firmly by the elbow and steered her towards a large ballroom decked out in imitation of a winter wonderland, decorated trees set up along winding pathways, interspersed with benches. She tried to pull her arm free, but found he had her in what she thought of as his "witness grip", impersonal, but oh so firm. He drew her towards a secluded alcove he had scoped out earlier. He sat down, the pressure he was applying on her arm leaving her no choice but to do so also.
This behavior was very unlike him and it left Mary a bit off balance. She couldn't decide if she should be angry or worried. She looked at his impassive face, unable to read him.
"Marshall, what the hell?" she asked, starting to get bristly. The bench they were sitting on was flush against the wall, two large trees on either side, effectively hiding them from view of any other strollers through the wonderland. Mary caught a whiff of pine scent, fresh and clean.
He held up a hand and stopped her before she got rolling. She looked at him and pulled back in surprise. He was angry. She was at a loss. Why was he angry?
"That," he enunciated clearly, "was not all I had." What the hell was he talking about? Mary's brow creased in a frown. "It just so happens, I did not want our first real kiss to be in front of an audience offering critiques."
Mary stared at him. He's upset about that kiss? That non-event? Then it struck her. He's upset about the comment I made. The comment I made because I was so relieved he didn't try for anything more, not in front of all those people.
She became uncomfortably aware that he had never dropped his grasp on her, his hand merely slid from her elbow down her arm to clasp her hand. He leaned in towards her. She tried to move back but found the wall behind her and Marshall's lanky body strategically placed, so she was effectively trapped. She checked her impulse to try and pull away. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Marshall knew all her moves and would be ready for any of them. And she simply couldn't come out on top in a contest of pure strength. She'd tried before. Marshall had easily won that one. It was humiliating. He was surprisingly strong for such a slender man. She had seen him use assumptions regarding his strength to his advantage more than once.
"I have more. Much more." His voice was very measured. Mary felt a small wave of unease. Just what was he planning to do? She scanned his face, unable to discern anything. He saw the uncertainty in her expression and leaned in closer, pushing her hair back with the tips of his fingers and placing his lips against her ear.
"Not to worry. I won't do anything you don't ask me to." Mary's heart was hammering. His lips moving against the lobe of her ear sent an odd sensation down her spine. This was wrong, Marshall shouldn't be acting like this. Had he been drinking?
He trailed his fingers down her cheek and gently grasped her chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes were forced up to meet his. The soft glow given off by the lights on the trees made it hard to decipher the color of his eyes. She turned as much as she was able, to get more light onto his face. She was able to tell a great deal about his mood by the shade of eyes, ranging from steely slate gray to piercing sky blue. Right now, they skewed more towards the steely gray, but visibly softened as he took in her anxious face.
"Did you know," he began conversationally, beginning to lightly sketch small circles on her jawline with his thumb,"that the practice of kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve began with the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia and the observances around the Winter Solstice? The New Year's Eve kiss eventually came to be seen as a barometer of things to come. In old English and German legends, the first person you kissed when the bells chimed at midnight, set the tone for your happiness and fortune in the coming year. A kiss with one you loved ensured good tidings, but with someone less favorable, or no one at all, not so much."
Bending down he kissed her brow, then, feather light her eyelids, dropped a kiss on the apple of each cheek. He slowly traced her lips with his thumb, again and a third time.
"So," he said softly, "what category do I fall in? Loved one," he paused, "or someone less favorable."
"Marshall," she started, but gasped as his finger slipped inside her mouth when she said his name. He ran the tip of his index finger along the inside of her lower lip, then went back to tracing her lips, his finger now wet with her own saliva. She almost came out of her own skin, his touch was that electric. He was so close to her she felt the moist heat of his breath as he exhaled, felt the warmth of his body contrasted against the slight chill of the room. It was becoming hypnotic, that slow tracing of her lips, the evenness of his breathing. Her own breaths were starting to hitch. My God, he was too close. Steely blue eyes were boring into her. Marshall dropped her hand and grasped her upper arm, started rubbing slow circles with his thumb. His gaze moved ever so slowly over her face, then slipped down, took in the curve of her neck, the way the charmeuse fabric of her dress clung to her shapely figure, her long legs. His eyes traveled back up her body and locked with hers, frank appreciation showing. Mary felt a frisson of awareness run down her spine. The look was a familiar one to her. Many men had looked at her like that before. But never Marshall. How could Marshall be looking at her like that? Marshall looked at her with affection, with amusement, with irritation, with pride, with incredulity, but never with desire. And that's what she saw in his eyes now.
Both hands were now on her arms, thumbs slipping over the shimmering material, tracing small circles of fire. Mary's head was starting to spin. Why is he doing this? What is he doing? How is it that Marshall, Marshall! for chrissake, was making her feel like this? Mary stared at him, tried to think what to do, how to respond. She couldn't physically pull away, he had her caged between the wall and his body. Her mind was a blank, unable to come up with an appropriate remark, to get him to back off. All she could focus on was the way he was making her feel. The light touches that were somehow making her hyper aware of her skin and his hands. His warm breath that focused her attention on his breathing, brought her eyes to his mouth. His breathing was even and controlled. Now that she paid attention, she realized he was working on keeping it even and controlled. She saw him part his lips, felt her breath hitch again. Found herself leaning forward slightly. Wondered what it would feel like to have his lips on hers for more than an impersonal second or two, to have him urge her mouth open. Was unaware her own lips parted in response to that image in her head. His mouth, his hands, his gentle touch, her Marshall who would never hurt her. She felt an ache growing inside her.
"Marshall, please," she whimpered, the words leaving her mouth involuntarily. He smiled, his eyes lit up with amusement, with a hint of something darker behind it.
"Please what, Mary," he whispered into her ear. She didn't even know. Please stop? No, she didn't want him to stop. What did she want? The warmth of his exhaled breath into her ear made her feel something she had never associated with Marshall before. Finally recognized the building tension in her belly for what it was.
"Please kiss me," she asked in a small voice. She was unable to break his gaze as he studied her, sat statue still as his hand came up to lay palm flat on her upper chest, long fingers wrapping along her neck. Took in his smile as he felt her hammering heart under his hand, felt her pulse racing under his fingers. Drew in her breath sharply as he leaned very slowly in towards her, rested his forehead against hers.
"If that is what you want." He spoke softly, giving her an out. She realized she didn't want an out. She wanted the feel of his mouth on hers, wanted his arms around her, wanted the press of the angular planes of his body against her softer curves. Her arms lifted of their own accord, to wrap around his neck. Large emerald pools gazed openly into tumbled ocean waves, as she nodded.
"It is. What I want."
Marshall stood up, drawing her with him. He wrapped one arm around her waist, as he had on the ballroom floor, then leaned down to brush his lips feather light against hers, and again, the third time letting his lips linger a moment before gradually increasing the pressure he was applying. His arm tightened on her waist, brought her in closer against him. As the pressure became more insistent, Mary parted her lips, an invitation Marshall readily accepted.
He ran his tongue over her lips, in imitation of the earlier tracing with his finger. She fully opened her mouth to him and he slid his tongue inside, began a slow but very thorough exploration. Examined the surfaces of her teeth, investigated the smooth walls of her cheeks, studied her lips, and oh yes, analyzed the movements, deciphered the taste of her tongue. She was eagerly responding to each thrust, every nip. My God, this is the best kiss I've ever had. Recognized that for the first time, maybe ever, this kiss was not just a prelude to getting in her pants. Her partner was pouring his very soul into these kisses. Afraid he may never get another opportunity. The kisses deepened, became more urgent, more insistent. His hand moved up her back and tangled in her hair. He tugged gently and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. His lips traveled down her neck dropping kiss after kiss, then moved back to her mouth. Kiss, nip, lick, thrust, breathe, repeat, repeat, repeat...
Mary was drowning in sensation. She grimaced when she felt the change in his breathing, as it became more ragged, less controlled, knew she was going to have to break this off. I don't want to break this off. I want him to go on kissing me forever. Marshall slid his hand down to her bottom, pulled her sharply against him, she could feel him hard against her belly. The ache in her abdomen and regions south increased. She wanted, what, what did she want? More. More of him. But she couldn't. This wasn't right. She would not risk their partnership and friendship on a one night stand. But that's not what it would be to Marshall is it? What would it be to me? Then he lifted his mouth and rested his forehead against hers. And just held her, not pushing for anything more, gasping to get control of his breathing again.
I didn't have to be the one to break it. Marshall took that on himself. Mary's own breathing was coming in spurts, hitching painfully. She was clinging to him and had the uncomfortable thought that if he released his hold on her right now, she might sink to the floor in a puddle at his feet. She was clutching handfuls of his crisp linen shirt in her hands, inhaling his warm breath as he exhaled. Gradually bringing her breathing into sync with his. She looked at him like she had never seen him before. So much passion, where did that come from? Note to self: New Year's Resolution #2: Engage in much more kissing with Marshall.
"Good," he said in such a low voice, Mary had to strain to hear him, "it's what I want too." Her addled mind took a minute to realize he was responding to the last thing she had said to him. They looked at each other, eyes dilated, as their breathing returned to normal. Mary reached out a shaky hand and gingerly touched his face.
"Marshall," she whispered, "what was that?" His eyes were full of pleading, begging for her to understand, to not push him away. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"That was me showing you what I have," he mumbled, smiled sadly. "It's me showing you how I feel," he amended. She stared at him, for once in her life, struck silent. Reaching out, she took his hand, intertwined her fingers with his.
"OK," she said, searching his face, so familiar to her. Yet somehow, she had missed seeing how he felt about her.
"You have more than I ever dreamed." She leaned in close and spoke into his ear so she wouldn't have to look at him. Drawing a shaky breath, she closed her eyes, trying to get her brain to think clearly. How did she feel about him? How should she respond? How would she manage to not screw this up? She needed to get out of here so she could think.
"Take me home Marshall," she whispered, not seeing the flicker of pain that crossed his face.
Author: tilley_girl
Characters/Pairing: Mary/Marshall
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An invitation issued, a challenge received, a countdown begun...
Warning: Slight sexual references
Author’s Note: Originally posted on ff.net for New Years, in case this looks familiar. But it fits for the 12 Days...
Chapter 2 - The Kiss
Marshall came up behind Mary as she was making her way to the coat check, ready to escape. He grasped her firmly by the elbow and steered her towards a large ballroom decked out in imitation of a winter wonderland, decorated trees set up along winding pathways, interspersed with benches. She tried to pull her arm free, but found he had her in what she thought of as his "witness grip", impersonal, but oh so firm. He drew her towards a secluded alcove he had scoped out earlier. He sat down, the pressure he was applying on her arm leaving her no choice but to do so also.
This behavior was very unlike him and it left Mary a bit off balance. She couldn't decide if she should be angry or worried. She looked at his impassive face, unable to read him.
"Marshall, what the hell?" she asked, starting to get bristly. The bench they were sitting on was flush against the wall, two large trees on either side, effectively hiding them from view of any other strollers through the wonderland. Mary caught a whiff of pine scent, fresh and clean.
He held up a hand and stopped her before she got rolling. She looked at him and pulled back in surprise. He was angry. She was at a loss. Why was he angry?
"That," he enunciated clearly, "was not all I had." What the hell was he talking about? Mary's brow creased in a frown. "It just so happens, I did not want our first real kiss to be in front of an audience offering critiques."
Mary stared at him. He's upset about that kiss? That non-event? Then it struck her. He's upset about the comment I made. The comment I made because I was so relieved he didn't try for anything more, not in front of all those people.
She became uncomfortably aware that he had never dropped his grasp on her, his hand merely slid from her elbow down her arm to clasp her hand. He leaned in towards her. She tried to move back but found the wall behind her and Marshall's lanky body strategically placed, so she was effectively trapped. She checked her impulse to try and pull away. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Marshall knew all her moves and would be ready for any of them. And she simply couldn't come out on top in a contest of pure strength. She'd tried before. Marshall had easily won that one. It was humiliating. He was surprisingly strong for such a slender man. She had seen him use assumptions regarding his strength to his advantage more than once.
"I have more. Much more." His voice was very measured. Mary felt a small wave of unease. Just what was he planning to do? She scanned his face, unable to discern anything. He saw the uncertainty in her expression and leaned in closer, pushing her hair back with the tips of his fingers and placing his lips against her ear.
"Not to worry. I won't do anything you don't ask me to." Mary's heart was hammering. His lips moving against the lobe of her ear sent an odd sensation down her spine. This was wrong, Marshall shouldn't be acting like this. Had he been drinking?
He trailed his fingers down her cheek and gently grasped her chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes were forced up to meet his. The soft glow given off by the lights on the trees made it hard to decipher the color of his eyes. She turned as much as she was able, to get more light onto his face. She was able to tell a great deal about his mood by the shade of eyes, ranging from steely slate gray to piercing sky blue. Right now, they skewed more towards the steely gray, but visibly softened as he took in her anxious face.
"Did you know," he began conversationally, beginning to lightly sketch small circles on her jawline with his thumb,"that the practice of kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve began with the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia and the observances around the Winter Solstice? The New Year's Eve kiss eventually came to be seen as a barometer of things to come. In old English and German legends, the first person you kissed when the bells chimed at midnight, set the tone for your happiness and fortune in the coming year. A kiss with one you loved ensured good tidings, but with someone less favorable, or no one at all, not so much."
Bending down he kissed her brow, then, feather light her eyelids, dropped a kiss on the apple of each cheek. He slowly traced her lips with his thumb, again and a third time.
"So," he said softly, "what category do I fall in? Loved one," he paused, "or someone less favorable."
"Marshall," she started, but gasped as his finger slipped inside her mouth when she said his name. He ran the tip of his index finger along the inside of her lower lip, then went back to tracing her lips, his finger now wet with her own saliva. She almost came out of her own skin, his touch was that electric. He was so close to her she felt the moist heat of his breath as he exhaled, felt the warmth of his body contrasted against the slight chill of the room. It was becoming hypnotic, that slow tracing of her lips, the evenness of his breathing. Her own breaths were starting to hitch. My God, he was too close. Steely blue eyes were boring into her. Marshall dropped her hand and grasped her upper arm, started rubbing slow circles with his thumb. His gaze moved ever so slowly over her face, then slipped down, took in the curve of her neck, the way the charmeuse fabric of her dress clung to her shapely figure, her long legs. His eyes traveled back up her body and locked with hers, frank appreciation showing. Mary felt a frisson of awareness run down her spine. The look was a familiar one to her. Many men had looked at her like that before. But never Marshall. How could Marshall be looking at her like that? Marshall looked at her with affection, with amusement, with irritation, with pride, with incredulity, but never with desire. And that's what she saw in his eyes now.
Both hands were now on her arms, thumbs slipping over the shimmering material, tracing small circles of fire. Mary's head was starting to spin. Why is he doing this? What is he doing? How is it that Marshall, Marshall! for chrissake, was making her feel like this? Mary stared at him, tried to think what to do, how to respond. She couldn't physically pull away, he had her caged between the wall and his body. Her mind was a blank, unable to come up with an appropriate remark, to get him to back off. All she could focus on was the way he was making her feel. The light touches that were somehow making her hyper aware of her skin and his hands. His warm breath that focused her attention on his breathing, brought her eyes to his mouth. His breathing was even and controlled. Now that she paid attention, she realized he was working on keeping it even and controlled. She saw him part his lips, felt her breath hitch again. Found herself leaning forward slightly. Wondered what it would feel like to have his lips on hers for more than an impersonal second or two, to have him urge her mouth open. Was unaware her own lips parted in response to that image in her head. His mouth, his hands, his gentle touch, her Marshall who would never hurt her. She felt an ache growing inside her.
"Marshall, please," she whimpered, the words leaving her mouth involuntarily. He smiled, his eyes lit up with amusement, with a hint of something darker behind it.
"Please what, Mary," he whispered into her ear. She didn't even know. Please stop? No, she didn't want him to stop. What did she want? The warmth of his exhaled breath into her ear made her feel something she had never associated with Marshall before. Finally recognized the building tension in her belly for what it was.
"Please kiss me," she asked in a small voice. She was unable to break his gaze as he studied her, sat statue still as his hand came up to lay palm flat on her upper chest, long fingers wrapping along her neck. Took in his smile as he felt her hammering heart under his hand, felt her pulse racing under his fingers. Drew in her breath sharply as he leaned very slowly in towards her, rested his forehead against hers.
"If that is what you want." He spoke softly, giving her an out. She realized she didn't want an out. She wanted the feel of his mouth on hers, wanted his arms around her, wanted the press of the angular planes of his body against her softer curves. Her arms lifted of their own accord, to wrap around his neck. Large emerald pools gazed openly into tumbled ocean waves, as she nodded.
"It is. What I want."
Marshall stood up, drawing her with him. He wrapped one arm around her waist, as he had on the ballroom floor, then leaned down to brush his lips feather light against hers, and again, the third time letting his lips linger a moment before gradually increasing the pressure he was applying. His arm tightened on her waist, brought her in closer against him. As the pressure became more insistent, Mary parted her lips, an invitation Marshall readily accepted.
He ran his tongue over her lips, in imitation of the earlier tracing with his finger. She fully opened her mouth to him and he slid his tongue inside, began a slow but very thorough exploration. Examined the surfaces of her teeth, investigated the smooth walls of her cheeks, studied her lips, and oh yes, analyzed the movements, deciphered the taste of her tongue. She was eagerly responding to each thrust, every nip. My God, this is the best kiss I've ever had. Recognized that for the first time, maybe ever, this kiss was not just a prelude to getting in her pants. Her partner was pouring his very soul into these kisses. Afraid he may never get another opportunity. The kisses deepened, became more urgent, more insistent. His hand moved up her back and tangled in her hair. He tugged gently and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. His lips traveled down her neck dropping kiss after kiss, then moved back to her mouth. Kiss, nip, lick, thrust, breathe, repeat, repeat, repeat...
Mary was drowning in sensation. She grimaced when she felt the change in his breathing, as it became more ragged, less controlled, knew she was going to have to break this off. I don't want to break this off. I want him to go on kissing me forever. Marshall slid his hand down to her bottom, pulled her sharply against him, she could feel him hard against her belly. The ache in her abdomen and regions south increased. She wanted, what, what did she want? More. More of him. But she couldn't. This wasn't right. She would not risk their partnership and friendship on a one night stand. But that's not what it would be to Marshall is it? What would it be to me? Then he lifted his mouth and rested his forehead against hers. And just held her, not pushing for anything more, gasping to get control of his breathing again.
I didn't have to be the one to break it. Marshall took that on himself. Mary's own breathing was coming in spurts, hitching painfully. She was clinging to him and had the uncomfortable thought that if he released his hold on her right now, she might sink to the floor in a puddle at his feet. She was clutching handfuls of his crisp linen shirt in her hands, inhaling his warm breath as he exhaled. Gradually bringing her breathing into sync with his. She looked at him like she had never seen him before. So much passion, where did that come from? Note to self: New Year's Resolution #2: Engage in much more kissing with Marshall.
"Good," he said in such a low voice, Mary had to strain to hear him, "it's what I want too." Her addled mind took a minute to realize he was responding to the last thing she had said to him. They looked at each other, eyes dilated, as their breathing returned to normal. Mary reached out a shaky hand and gingerly touched his face.
"Marshall," she whispered, "what was that?" His eyes were full of pleading, begging for her to understand, to not push him away. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"That was me showing you what I have," he mumbled, smiled sadly. "It's me showing you how I feel," he amended. She stared at him, for once in her life, struck silent. Reaching out, she took his hand, intertwined her fingers with his.
"OK," she said, searching his face, so familiar to her. Yet somehow, she had missed seeing how he felt about her.
"You have more than I ever dreamed." She leaned in close and spoke into his ear so she wouldn't have to look at him. Drawing a shaky breath, she closed her eyes, trying to get her brain to think clearly. How did she feel about him? How should she respond? How would she manage to not screw this up? She needed to get out of here so she could think.
"Take me home Marshall," she whispered, not seeing the flicker of pain that crossed his face.