Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I simply like to let them out to misbehave.
A/N: So I have no idea where this came from...I haven't seen an episode of MASH in ages but a muse just snuck up and bit me and who am I to resist the lure of a plot bunny? I'm sure this has been done to death ("what happened the night in the shack in Comrades in Arms") but I'm in the mood to write something tastefully smutty (I hope it's tasteful anyways). Keep in mind that I haven't seen an episode of this in years (literally) and that this is my first ever MASH fanfic. I've read some other stuff recently and I can still tell when the characters are "in character" so hopefully they'll be okay here...Reviews are much appreciated, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
Her heart rate jumped every time a new shell came whistling down around them. She fought off the fear, tried to block out the nosie, and failed. She needed comfort, solace, and protection. These were things that Margaret Houlihan very rarely allowed herself to accept from others. Were she alone in this shack she knew she would be curled childishly into the fetal position, waiting out the shelling, praying for silence. But the fact remained that she was not alone, she was trapped with one Benjamin Franklin Pierce. She desperately wanted him to hold her, to make everything all right, but she couldn't let him do that...could she? The shelling seemed to increase in intensity and she lost her composure, screaming for it to stop, letting go of her last shred of rationality and allowing the fear take over.
Before she knew it his arms were around her and they were both yelling hopelessly for silence, she tensed at the initial realization that she had let her guard down but soon realized that she had no will to pull away. When his lips found hers the first time it was desperate and needy, the intensity of it stunned her into submission and it wasn't long before she found herself kissing him back. He laid her down gently on the floor, folding his jacket and placing it as a makeshift pillow beneath her head. The initial feverishness had worn off and he was far more gentle now, kissing her with a gentle passion as his skilled hands made their way over her body.
"Hawkeye," she breathed as his fingers danced down the buttons of her shirt, exposing the t-shirt she wore underneath. In their hast her t-shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a creamy expanse of skin that Hawkeye couldn't resist touching. He brushed his fingers over the taut muscles, feeling them quiver as Margaret let out a soft laugh. "Tickles," she whispered before he descended on her lips once again. In their bubble the noise from the shells ceased to exist and all that remained was the sound of labored breathing and pounding hearts.
Hawkeye sat up and Margaret's heart sank, she'd known it was too good to be true. It wasn't until he slid her shirt off her shoulders that she realized that this little rendezvous was far from over. His hands slid beneath her shirt, gingerly touching her warm skin, "You okay?" he asked and she realized she hadn't moved since he sat her up. Margaret nodded, unable to find the words but desperately needing him to continue. She needed to feel the weight of a man above her, she needed to feel protected and loved and this was one night she was actually willing to let someone give her what she needed. He removed her t-shirt, leaving her clad only in a black silk bra, "Not standard army issue, Major," he murmured into her ear. Margaret could only moan. Her fingers trembled as she began to work the buttons on his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. When the buttons were finally freed she slid the shirt off of him and didn't hesitate to remove the tank he wore underneath.
He laid her back down, shifting his weight to one side so he could take in her full beauty. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" She felt a hand cup her breast, thumb stroking through the silky fabric, her back arched of it's own accord. His hands slipped beneath her and easily unclasped the bra before he slid it down her arms. For a moment all Hawkeye could do was stare, he never dreamed that this day would actually come.
"Hawk?" she questioned, scared he was having second thoughts.
"So beautiful Margaret," he whispered before lowering his head to taste her skin. Margaret gasped and arched higher, wanting more. Sex had never left her fully satisfied no matter who she was with. The generals and colonels just wanted her body and didn't care what she got out of it. In the beginning Frank had tried but she had eventually taken to faking it so he would leave her alone. This was different somehow. She was still half dressed but she was so aroused she thought she might explode. Hawkeye raised his head and looked into her eyes, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." His fingers deftly undid her belt, the zipper and button submitting to his skill immediately. Margaret lifted her hips, her legs trembling when Hawkeye's hands caressed her backside before pulling down her remaining clothing, underwear and all.
Margaret had a fleeting thought about the absurdity of the current situation; here she was lying completely exposed in the middle of a war zone with a man notorious for his one night stands. It was insane, it was stupid, it was bound to be a mess in the morning and yet she couldn't help feeling that nothing had ever seemed so right. A kiss to her inner thigh brought her thoughts jolting to a halt, she whimpered as his lips moved up her thigh, coming precariously close, but never reaching, the place she wanted him most. Margaret lifted her hips impatiently, needing release.
"Patience Margaret," he hummed, placing a gentle kiss just below her navel. She was gone the moment his tongue first touched her, flying over the precipice and screaming his name. Her heart pounded, her limbs felt like dead weight and she was delirious with pleasure. It never crossed her mind that this wasn't the end. When she had finally recovered enough to see straight, she noted that Hawkeye had divested himself of his remaining clothing. She felt him, warm and hard, pressing into her abdomen and all her mind could seem to focus on was the thought of him being inside her. Margaret rolled fully onto her back, encouraging Hawkeye to follow.
"I need you," she whispered so quietly he wasn't sure he'd heard but the look in her seafoam eyes told him everything he needed to know. He nudged her thighs apart as he lavished her collarbones with kisses and gentle nips. He moved slowly, not wanting to hurt her. Margaret's eyes fairly rolled back in her head as she felt him fill her, reveling in the feel of his weight holding her down. His first movements were gentle but her hips spurred him on, meeting his every thrust with equal intensity. Their sweat-soaked bodies slid together in the pale Korean moonlight, pushing on to the ultimate goal. Hawkeye felt her stiffen and she cried out his name, her climax bringing about his own. He groaned into her ear before falling to the side so as not to crush her.
Hawkeye wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close so that her back was flush against his chest. "Hawk?" Margaret questioned tiredly.
"Sleep Margaret," he whispered into her hair.
The consequences of their night were sure to be damaging but neither officer could bring themselves to care. Because sometimes, when you feel like you can't go on, you just need someone to fall into.