Cut Loose

Pairing: Mac/Gunny

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Adrift 1&2

Disclaimer: DPB and CBS and Paramount own these characters, not me. If I did, the show would be a little more *interesting* … and it wouldn't be able to air on network television. <g>

Feedback: Please! Otherwise, how will I know whether or not to write a sequel? Send to stacey2545@yahoo.com

Author's Note: I finally finished it. I'd expected to have it out earlier, being as how Gunny really wanted to tell his side… but then finals came and moving back home for the summer and I just finished. BTW, this one has less betaing… so feedback would be greatly appreciated.

We're both soaked by the time I walk her to her door. It's starting to feel like it hasn't stopped raining since Rabb's plane went down.

"Thanks for the ride, Gunny," she mumbles as her apartment door swings open.

"You okay, ma'am?"

"I'm fine," she says, but her face says anything but. Her make-up, normally subtle but meticulous, is streaked across her face, her mascara running in trails I would bet aren't from the rain. There's something empty and hollow in her eyes.

We stand there awkwardly for a minute. She's not sure how to get rid of me, and I'm not sure she should. Standing there uncomfortably in the doorway, she looks up at me and I don't think twice about it.

I invite myself in. She makes a lame protest but we both know she doesn't really want me to leave. She just wants to want me to leave. So I stay.

She'd hardly protested when I offered to take her home. I think that scares me more, the way she submissively followed me out to my car. She stared out the window the entire way. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said she was drugged. She was so out of touch with reality. Every now and then she'd hiccup, whether from a choked back sob or a hysterical laugh, I never knew.

Closing the door behind me, I follow her into her apartment. I've never been here before but it's exactly what I'd expect. Cultured, feminine, nice … but austere too. The room has a lot of personality but there aren't a whole lot of personal things in it.

She stands in the middle of her living room, looking lost and alone like a kid in a store who's just realized she's been separated from her parents. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around her and hold her until her tears are gone. Instead I bury my hands in my soggy pockets to relieve the temptation. The silence stretches between us and I shift my weight nervously.

"You should probably change into something dry." The words roll of my tongue like a bowling ball, falling heavy and thick in the awkward silence.

Nevertheless, she moves off towards what I assume to be her bedroom. She pushes the door mostly closed behind her but she doesn't seem too concerned that she's left it ajar. I try not to stare but my gaze is inexorably drawn to the crack in the door where I see bits and flashes of fabric as she peels the wet uniform from clammy skin. My mouth is suddenly very dry.

She comes back in a thin tee-shirt and old sweats that practically swim on her, the matching sweatshirt clutched in her hands, along with a fluffy, sunny yellow towel which she hands to me. I accept it gratefully and start sopping up the rain, now icy against my skin with the chill of the A/C.

The pants hang low on her hips, a thick roll of fabric around her waist where she's rolled up the waistband. Mic's? Then she tugs the sweatshirt over her head and I see the faded yellow US Navy silkscreen on the front. Rabb's.

She twists the hem nervously in her fingers. "Do you want something to drink?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Do you?" We both know I'm not talking about just any beverage.

She stares at me wide-eyed but doesn't respond. I guess that's her answer.

I sit down on the couch and pat the cushion beside me. "You want to talk about it?"

She curls up in the far corner of the sofa, pulling her legs up to her chest tucking them under the sweatshirt. It's like she wants to just be swallowed by it. By him.

I'd walked into the bar tonight looking for Manny. He'd called, said the gang was getting together, getting drunk. "You need to go out, get drunk, and get laid," he said. I didn't really feel like it. I said it was because of the drama going on at the office with the colonel's wedding on hold and Rabb barely getting fished out of the ocean. Of course, for Manny this was all the more reason to go out and get wasted. But I'm not Manny.

I went anyway. I'm glad I did. I'd gone in looking for Manny, and instead I found Mac. She was sitting at the end of the bar, her uniform plastered to her skin as if she'd not only been caught in the rain but stood there under a downpour. In front of her sat a glass of gin and tonic … untouched. She was about to take a sip when I approached her.

It wasn't a hard choice. Manny'll get over being stood up. Mac might not get over falling off the wagon again. Her drinking isn't something we talk about, but we know, the Roberts, the admiral, Rabb, and I. When things go rough for her, we all keep an extra eye out.

I was surprised to see her drinking now. After all, she'd gotten through the drama of last weekend without a sign of wanting to resort to the bottle. What could be so bad now?

Apparently everything. We sit on her couch, and in fits and starts she tells me what happened tonight. She tells me about Mic, how she came home to find him walking out and of course she went to her best friend. And he used that as proof that she was in love with Rabb? So he went back to Australia. What an idiot! If a woman has man problems who else would she go talk to other than her best friend? That's what women do.

As she speaks every so often a tear trails down her cheek. She ignores it so so do I. When she gets to what happened at Rabb's apartment with Renee, however, the tears fall faster and her words are broken up by sobs.

"I told him I'd be okay," she says. She chokes back a sob. "I lied." She wraps her arms around herself and rocks back and forth, pressed against the arm of the couch. The tears run down her face, mumbling "I lied, I lied" over and over.

"No you didn't." Why does my voice sound hoarse? "You will be okay," I promise her.

I scoot closer to her on the couch, taking her hand and lacing my fingers with hers. "The Corps takes care of its own, Mac, and you're not going to deal with this by yourself. I won't let you."

I can see the emotions warring in her eyes. Embarrassment at letting me see her like this. Hesitation as she decides just how much to let me see, as if I haven't seen it all by now. Relief and gratitude that I'm not passing any judgment on her.

"You know, Marie always says I've got a good shoulder to cry on."

She stares at me for a moment in indecision. The human need to be held wins out and she lays her head on my shoulder and cries while I rub her back soothingly. This woman who refused to fall apart while Rabb was lost in the Atlantic shakes with the force of her tears. It breaks my heart. I have the strongest urge to go over there and smack some sense into him, officer or not. But there's no way in hell I'd leave her alone right now.

It seems like hours later when she finally quiets.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this." Her voice is soft and if her lips weren't so close to my ear, I wouldn't have heard her.

"Like what? A woman who's hurting?"

"God. Look at me," she laughs bitterly. "I'm a mess, Gunny."

I guess I'd have to agree with her. She is a mess, her hair, still damp from the rain, sticking up like Alf on a bad hair day. Her eyes are red and puffy, surrounded by dark circles from her makeup. I reach out and run a hand through her tousled hair. If it bothers her, she doesn't say anything.

"I just … This isn't like me," she says, staring down at her hands. "I deal with my problems on my own."

"Is that what you were doing at the bar tonight? Dealing with your problems?" It's a simple question, not a hint of reproach, but she stiffens in my arms. She doesn't pull away though.

Her voice is angry now. "Gunny…"

"Believe me, Mac. If my fiancée had dumped me the way yours did, I'd be falling apart too."

That prompts a wry laugh. "Somehow I can't see you as a sobbing mess."

I smile but my voice is serious. "We all fall apart in different ways. I'd probably be at a bar getting drunk and starting a fight or two. But I'd much rather see you a sobbing mess than dealing with it that way."

There's a moment of silence as she absorbs my words. Pulling the cuff of one sleeve over her wrist, she uses the sleeve to wipe the tears from her face. And then she looks up at me and the next thing I know we're kissing.

Her lips are warm and soft against mine and my arms automatically wrap themselves around her and pull her close. It starts off sweet and chaste. That lasts for all of half a second. Her fingers clutch at my shirt and her lips part and suddenly Sarah Mackenzie's tongue is running over my lips. I deepen the kiss and let myself be swept away by it.

When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard. I can feel her ribs expand with every breath, pressing her breasts against my chest. I pull away, leaving my hands where they rest on her shoulders.

What the hell was I thinking? She's had two men fuck with her head today. She certainly doesn't need me adding to her problems by taking advantage of the situation.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I shouldn't have kissed you." The way her eyes are focused on my lips I know she wants to do it again. That makes two of us.

"You should try and get some sleep." I stand up, putting some distance between us. "And I should probably be leaving." I try to be firm but there's too much reluctance in my voice.

Her face falls and I want to kick myself. "Would you … would you mind staying?" she asks, her voice no louder than a whisper. In the two years I've known her, she's never sounded so vulnerable.

I cock an eyebrow. Is she asking me to…

She smiles weakly. "That wasn't a proposition." Her voice is more hesitant than I've ever heard. "I just … I'm not sure I should be alone tonight."

Well, I certainly agree with that. But my staying wouldn't be a good idea. The appearance of impropriety and all. And if the Barracuda gets word of this … She's got spies everywhere.

I should leave. Hell, the depth of my response to that kiss tells me I should run like the hounds of hell are after me. But I can't. I just can't. Could I really abandon her like Brumby and Rabb have?

I nod and she gets up from the couch. I follow her to her bedroom. She pauses in the doorway. We both know if I follow her in we'll be crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed.

She stands in the doorway for a minute just watching me. I see a look in her eyes that I haven't seen in a long time. Hunger. She's staring at me with hunger. Like a dog looking in the butcher's window at all the meat he can't have. How long's it been since a woman's looked at me like that? If I can't remember, it's been far too long.

She stares up at me with these wide, innocent eyes. Slowly she leans in close. I should pull away. I know I should. I don't.

Her lips are on mine again and it's everything the last kiss was only more. Her tongue darts in and out of my mouth, sliding erotically alongside mine. Her hands, instead of clutching the front of my shirt, roam my back, pulling me close like she wants to climb inside my skin.

I'm hardly a passive participant. I pull her just as close with my hands cupping her ass; it's far from close enough with three or four layers of clothing separating us. I back her into the wall outside her bedroom and my hands slide under Rabb's sweatshirt, under her tee-shirt. I think I've found heaven when I feel the soft skin of her back under my fingers.

She arches her back, offering her throat to me. I accept. My lips, my tongue, skim over her neck. I taste the rain and the remnants of her subtle perfume and the head rushing flavor of Sarah MacKenzie.

She hooks a leg around my thigh and pulls me closer. Frozen, she gasps in shock at the contact, my stiffening cock pressed hard against her. A shock of electricity washes through me as I realize just what it is we're doing.

Damn it. We can't be doing this. We'll be risking our careers.

I pull away from her and apologize. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I-"

"Don't apologize. I was just surprised." She yanks at my hips, bringing my erection in full contact with the soft flesh of her belly. "I don't see how I could possibly be sexy to you right now." Her groan of arousal undermines her words.

I snort. "Mac, everything you do is sexy, and if any man tells you otherwise, he's lying through his teeth."

She smirks. "You're just saying that cause you wanna get in my pants." Her voice is teasing and light, her smile already pressed against my jaw before the last word falls huskily from her lips.

But I can't take her words so lightly. This is wrong. Not because she's an officer and I'm enlisted. Not because she's my superior officer. Because she's my friend and a woman I admire and respect. She's not some quick fuck. She's not some random girl I picked up at a bar who I'll never see again. There'll be consequences and even if she's not clearheaded enough to make an informed decision, I should be. I shouldn't take advantage like this.

She continues her assault on my jaw, running her tongue maddeningly along it, stopping every once in a while to deliver a gentle nip that nearly makes my knees week. God damn, this woman.

"Mac, you don't know what you're saying," I manage to gasp as she glides a hand down my stomach. She doesn't stop until she finds what she's looking for.

"Yes, I do." She squeezes my arousal for emphasis.

"You're upset. You're not thinking straight. I don't want to do anything we'll regret in the morning." I may be giving her mixed messages because by this point I'm sliding my hands down the back of her pants and cupping her sweet, firm ass.

Arms around my shoulders, she wraps her legs around my hips, bringing my cock into direct contact with a very interesting piece of her anatomy. We both groan at the friction.

"I'm just asking for once. No strings attached." Her breath is hot against my cheek as she leans in close to my ear. "Just once and when we're done, we'll pretend it never happened." Her hands run over my chest and I grab them. Her hands still but I don't let go. Better my hands on hers than somewhere else. She unwraps her legs from my waist and sets her feet on the ground.

"I can't sleep in that bed alone," she says. "I can't think about him. Either of them. Make me forget, Victor. Make me forget." She wraps her arms around my neck and I let her. We stand there clinging to each other and I can feel her trembling. With grief? With fear? Or desire?

What harm could it do? One time, no strings attached? She senses me caving in, her hand already on my fly. Damn she moves fast.

"Mac," I groan as her hand slips inside my pants. God. I bite my lip against the exquisite pleasure. She knows just where to touch a man. What the fuck was Brumby thinking when he left her?

I cup her face with both hands, dragging her lips back to mine. After what seems like an eternity we pull away. She leans back against the wall, her hair framing her face in damp curls. We're both breathing hard as she unwraps her legs from my waist and slides her feet to the floor.

"Bed," we both mumble at the same time. She starts tugging me in that direction. I follow only slightly reluctantly. I don't want to take advantage of her when she's hurting like this. But I don't think either of us could stop now if we tried. We're going to see this to completion.

We start shedding clothes the moment we're in the door. I've got my shirt off and belt undone by the time she's standing there in a thin tee-shirt and her underwear. Plain cotton, not the fancy scraps of silk and lace women buy to impress us. The tee-shirt is pulled tight across her breasts and her nipples show clearly through the fabric. It's obvious she's not wearing a bra. How the hell did I not notice that before? If it's possible for me to get any harder, I do.

She hooks her thumbs under the waistband to pull them down and I whimper. An honest to God whimper.

She stops, her arousal-clouded eyes intent on me. A seductive smile overtakes her face and her eyes dance with suppressed laughter.

"See something you like, Marine?" she teases. The line is so cliché I'm shocked at how much it turns me on. Before I know it, I shuck the rest of my clothes and tackle her. Her eyes widen in surprise and delight as I pin her to the bed. Her legs part and instinctively wrap themselves around my hips. My naked cock is pressed hard against the soft cotton.

She gets an evil glint in her eye and, growling, flips us over. Straddling my hips, she grinds down on me, the cotton between her legs now soaked. Her breasts sway with her motions and I'm panting for breath. Curling up, I pull her shirt over her head with no protest from her.

"Condoms?" I gasp.

"Nightstand." She moves to get them, but I'm closer.

I yank the drawer open so hard the whole thing comes flying out. I start trying to put it back in, but she stops me.

"Worry about it later." She wraps her hand around my cock, pumping it a few times. "I need you now."

Thoroughly agreeing with her, I snag the box of condoms from the drawer. I rip open the box and foil packets sprinkle themselves all over the bed. Good. We'll be needing some of those later. I hope.

She grabs a packet before I do and rips it open with her teeth. I move to take it from her, but she has the damn thing rolled down my cock smoother and more efficiently than I ever would. I nearly come just then. Only one thought helps me hold it off. If I'm only going to get one shot with her, it damn well better be perfect.

And it is. She lays back on the bed with her thighs spread invitingly and I hardly have time to settle myself between her legs before she's guiding me inside her. I groan as the tip of my cock slips past her entrance and she hisses. She's so tight I don't know if I'm going to fit. She starts trying to pull me deeper inside her but I stop her.

"Why not?" she moans. She looks offended but that look is quickly overtaken by ecstasy as I drop a hand between us, supporting myself with one arm, and start circling her clit.

"I'm too big. Don't want to hurt you." She's close. I can feel her getting tighter around me and I bite back my own hiss of pain. It's taking every ounce of discipline I have to not start ploughing my way in. Thank God I'm a Marine.

"That's the first … time I've ever heard… a man say that." Each word comes out raspy with her labored breath.

"That they don't want to … hurt you?" I pull out of her and slip a finger in instead. "You must be hanging out… with the wrong… men." I start thrusting my finger in and out, rubbing her clit with my thumb. Her hips meet every thrust. I add some more pressure to her clit and she's so close to the edge.

"No. I meant…" She cries out as I change the angle of my thrusting fingers, clutching at my shoulders. "… the 'too big' part-" The last word is said on a wail as she tightens around me. Her head drops back and I watch her face as the orgasm washes over her. When it's finally over, she collapses back on the mattress, her hair clinging to her face in a damp, sweaty mess.

She lays there panting, her face all red, sweat trailing down her neck to tantalizing places. I roll over to one side of her while she recovers. Limply she turns her head towards me. Her eyes wander along my chest and I can feel her gaze like icy fingers as it sweeps across my skin, circling my nipples, and makes its way down south.

I watch her eyes widen as she suddenly recalls my own neglected desires. It's not long before she's pushing me on my back and swinging a leg across my hips. Her dog tags clink seductively between her swaying breasts.

"You don't have to do this, Mac." I'm sending her mixed signals again as my hands urge her on, supporting her hips while she positions herself above me.

She wraps a hand around my latexed cock and guides me to her entrance. "Sure I do," she says. She gets ready to sink down on me but I find the discipline to hold her off.

"I mean it, Mac. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She looks about ready to cry as she lets go of my cock to caress my face. "I'm more relaxed now. You'll fit."

"You sure?"

She nods and before I have a chance to doubt it, her hot folds surround me and I stop thinking.

Five hours, four condoms, and a third of a bottle of baby oil later I reclaim some measure of functioning in my sex-addled brain. I'm lying in bed with a sleepy, sated colonel in my arms wondering what the fuck I was thinking. Well, actually, that's exactly what I was thinking-fuck. And that's precisely the problem. There's this woman in my arms, purring contentedly with her thigh draped across mine and she shouldn't be. I just did the worst thing I can think of-using a woman for sex. A woman who was vulnerable and trusting and I took advantage.

I look down at her, her head resting on my arm, her entire body practically bare to my gaze with the sheet twisted somewhere around our knees. Her hip's pressed against my groin and the only reason I'm not getting hard again is that I've had too much sex tonight. God, the last time I did this I was seventeen and slightly drunk.

"I should leave." I make no move to go. I stare at her chest where her dog tags lie between her breasts. They lay there so innocently and yet… all I can think about when I see them is guilt. I let down the Corps. More importantly I let down a woman I admire and respect, a fellow Marine and a friend who trusted me. Damn it, she trusted me!

I start to get up, untangling my legs from hers. She makes a sleepy protest but I ignore her.

"What are you doing?" There's no trace of sleepiness in her voice now as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"Home. I've got to report for duty in a couple hours."

She winces at my reference to work. Sitting up, she grabs the sheet and clutches it to her chest.

I turn away from her and step into my pants. She sits silently as I get dressed, not saying anything until I turn back to her in my hunt for my socks. I make the mistake of looking up at her and nearly cringe at the guilt on her face. She's shuttered herself away and I'm almost afraid she's going to head back to that bar I dragged her out of last night.

"Mac…" I trail off in a desperate quest for the right words.

"I'm sorry, Gunny. I shouldn't have-" She breaks off to wipe away a tear that's rolling down her cheek.

I give up on the socks. Sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her, I grasp the hand not holding the sheet. "Forget about it, Mac. No strings attached, remember?"

"Yeah." She sniffles a little and stares down at our joined hands. "That doesn't help me a lot with the rest of my problems though, does it?"

"Mac, it's going to be okay. I promise."

She laughs. "How can you promise that?" Her voice is a little sad, but she wants to believe me.

I pull her into my arms for a brief hug. "I know you, Mac. You've gotten through a lot of shit before. This'll hurt, but you will get through it." I back away and start buttoning my shirt. "And Mac," I say over my shoulder as I start looking again for my socks, "please talk to me before you start hitting the bars again."

She nods once and I leave before I can change my mind and never let her out of that bed.

I shouldn't be surprised she's leaped on the first TAD available. I'm glad the admiral is sending me along, but after this morning? It's going to be hell. The colonel and I in close quarters away from JAG after a night of mind-blowing sex? I know why she protested. Now that she's had a chance to think about it, she knows last night was a mistake … I've become one of those things that she's trying to get away from. And yet, here we are on this transport, shipping out to the Guadalcanal and she's looking at me with gratitude. As if as long as she has to have someone accompany her, there's no one else she'd rather have.

The admiral took me aside before we left, gave me a brief spiel about watching her back, making sure she's got her head one straight, keeping her out of trouble… all those things I would do for her regardless. Now the whole thing's spinning through my head like a song on repeat and guilt is sitting in my stomach like a ball of lead. Would he have sent me out here with her if he knew I'd spent last night in her bed? No. Would he trust me within ten feet of her? No. I feel like shit for what I did and still… I can't stop wondering. How the hell am I gonna keep my hands off of her?