Sparkling Blue
folder
M through R › M*A*S*H
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
5,884
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › M*A*S*H
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
5,884
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own M*A*S*H, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Three
"Sparkling Blue"
Chapter Three.
Charles and Margaret continued to share amaretto kisses until their little snifters had been emptied. The warmth of the smoothe almond liqueur worked its magic on Margaret, and she tugged once more on her collar, pulling it open a little further.
"Margaret, I have a sleeping shirt you're welcomed to change into, or a bathrobe."
She looked at him for a moment, as they silently communicated what may happen tonight if she stayed. She set her snifter down and turned to face Charles, smiling as she looked into his blue eyes.
"Charles...." she paused.
"Margaret?"
"Can I be blunt?"
He laughed, "Since when have you EVER asked to be blunt?"
She laughed in response. "You're right. I will be blunt. This doesn't go any further than tonight. These three days. Whichever. I just freed myself from someone, I'm not ready to start with another already."
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, returning her gaze. "I understand completely, Margaret. If you WANT, we could call it a night...." He let the thought trail off, wondering if she'd choose to stay or go.
She leaned toward him, partly resting on his shoulder and chest, as he reclined back on the couch. She kissed him softly, nibbling on his lip teasingly, sucking the upper portion into her mouth delicately.
"No...no, Charles, I'd very much like to stay. And enjoy your company. And this lovely suite, like you said."
He put his hand under her chin, running his fingers along her jawline to her ear and behind her neck. He traced his fingers back to him, running them between throat and uniform collar.
"Would you like to go put that sleeping shirt on after all, Margaret? I'm definitely getting out of MY uniform!"
She stood up. "Sure, show me the way."
He got up and dug the shirt out of his travel bag, tossing it to her. She caught it and went to the huge bathroom penthouse suites boasted.
As she pushed the door shut behind her, she gasped in surprise at the "bathtub." It was more like what would eventually be called a hot tub. That thing would hold six people! she thought, amazed. She walked to the edge, taking a closer look. There were little seats molded into the fine porcelain and what looked like drains and jets all over. She was intrigued, having never seen such a contrivance.
She undressed, carefully hanging her uniform on the door hook to prevent crumpling and wrinkles. She threw the sleeping shirt over her head, found a bit of toothpaste to freshen her breath, floofed her hair up and returned to the living room.
Charles had used the opportunity to change as well, and wore what looked like a Japanese martial arts gi, but this was in black silk with red trim and sash.
Margaret stood in the archway of the big room, watching him pour more amaretto. He was barefoot and casual. She'd never seen him quite this way, so relaxed and natural outside of the usual chaos and mayhem of the 4077th. Tokyo agrees with him, she thought approvingly.
He looked up to see her staring at him, and he smiled back at her. The light blue of his sleeping shirt enhanced her blue eyes, and her curls were adoringly wild. She's so beautiful, he thought.
He went to her, standing close. He returned her snifter. "Divesting ourselves of our uniforms should have been the first order of business, this is so much better!"
Margaret muttered in agreement, looking straight ahead into his chest. She ran her free hand up the middle, where the robe hung slightly open, enjoying the sensual feel of alternating silk and skin. She continued up to the back of his neck, when she pulled him closer, bringing her mouth to the tender juncture of throat and chest.
"Hmmmmm," she muttered again, her tongue and lips teasing the sensitive skin, dipping into the slight depression. Charles pulled her closer to him, feeling the hard tips of her breasts through the slinky material of his robe. Margaret responded ardently by biting and nipping on his throat. The sound of her moaning and sucking on him made his head spin, and he felt his inner muscles tighten instinctively.
Pulling away from him just long enough to set down her snifter, Margaret returned to her interrupted task, hands now free to explore more in-depth.
She pulled him down to her once more, accessing the base of his throat. Her left hand, now free to roam, ran under the edge of the robe, feeling along his chest and up to his shoulder. Oh, how she loved shoulders! She massaged back and forth, shoulder to neck and back again, her mouth furiously working at his throat with nibbles and bites.
She brought both hands down along his sides, putting her face over his heart and pulling him to her once more. Her kisses and nibbles continued. She relished the feel of his skin and rough hair against her, the scent of him, a mix of exquisitely expensive cologne and musky sweat. She described little wet circles over him, pausing when she felt his hard little nipple against her lip. She roughly pulled it into her mouth, pinching it between her teeth, biting almost painfully down, teasing the tender tip with her tongue.
Charles gasped. What the HELL, he thought, amazed. He'd NEVER had a woman do that to him! He felt the pull deep inside his chest and abdomen as he pressed her to him with one hand, his other hand running down her back. He could tell she wore no bra, and was again amazed and utterly enticed when, as his hand dipped lower, he felt she had nothing on at all under his nightshirt.
Oh my, he thought, already imagining the possibilities of this evening. He ached to pull the nightshirt off of her and drink in her beauty, but the night was young yet; he rather liked the veiled mystery of Margaret Houlihan and wanted to take his time exploring her, as she was exploring him at this moment.
His hands reached around to her front, Margaret's mouth still working furiously at him, and he pinched her nipples through the soft cottony material. She sucked in a quick breath at his touch, renewing the fury of her attack on his own.
He gasped again, in pain.
She muttered against him, "Did I hurt you?"
He sighed, "Yes...but it's incredible!"
He felt her chuckle as she moved her mouth back to the center of his chest. Her hands stayed under his robe, sliding to his back and down, down, until she reached his hips, and with a powerful pull, he was pressed against her, his hardness pushing into her abdomen, he was so much taller than she.
"Hmmmm," she moaned once again, enjoying the feel of him against her, the anticipation of what was to come driving her on, and down.
She slowly bent her knees and hips, kissing down the length of him, past his navel and the waist of his comfortable slacks. She wasn't quite on her knees, not being tall enough for that; she put her hands on the backs of his strong thighs and pressed herself against him, through the silky material. She teasingly bit at him, through the silk, noticing as Charles had earlier about herself that he wore nothing underneath. The thought that only this thin silk separated her mouth from him excited them both.
She heard his sharp intake of breath when she'd touched him with her teeth through the barrier of cloth.
"Hmmmm mmmmm," she moaned, as if in agreement of what was to come, sans slacks. She slowly worked her way up again, following the same path she'd taken down on him.
When she was upright again, her face turned up to his, Charles put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her in for a hungry kiss, his mouth pressing painfully against hers, his tongue thrusting greedily into her willing mouth. He lifted her into his arms, surprising her with his strength and passion, and brought her into his bedroom.
He held her there, kissing down her strong jawline to the nape of her neck, one hand pressed against her bare buttock where the nightshirt had lifted, exposing her. She felt the hand grip her as his teeth and lips nibbled and bit her, and she began to move in his arms, writhing with pleasure.
He placed her carefully on the bed, her feet and legs over the side. The shirt, again, had ridden up, taunting him by exposing a small portion of Margaret's inner flesh, teasing him as if to say, "Come closer."
He slowly reached down, never taking his eyes off her, and pulled the shirt down, almost chastely, as if he was not allowed to reach that treasured goal as yet. It had been just enough to torment him with anticipation. All in good time, he thought.
Chapter Three.
Charles and Margaret continued to share amaretto kisses until their little snifters had been emptied. The warmth of the smoothe almond liqueur worked its magic on Margaret, and she tugged once more on her collar, pulling it open a little further.
"Margaret, I have a sleeping shirt you're welcomed to change into, or a bathrobe."
She looked at him for a moment, as they silently communicated what may happen tonight if she stayed. She set her snifter down and turned to face Charles, smiling as she looked into his blue eyes.
"Charles...." she paused.
"Margaret?"
"Can I be blunt?"
He laughed, "Since when have you EVER asked to be blunt?"
She laughed in response. "You're right. I will be blunt. This doesn't go any further than tonight. These three days. Whichever. I just freed myself from someone, I'm not ready to start with another already."
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, returning her gaze. "I understand completely, Margaret. If you WANT, we could call it a night...." He let the thought trail off, wondering if she'd choose to stay or go.
She leaned toward him, partly resting on his shoulder and chest, as he reclined back on the couch. She kissed him softly, nibbling on his lip teasingly, sucking the upper portion into her mouth delicately.
"No...no, Charles, I'd very much like to stay. And enjoy your company. And this lovely suite, like you said."
He put his hand under her chin, running his fingers along her jawline to her ear and behind her neck. He traced his fingers back to him, running them between throat and uniform collar.
"Would you like to go put that sleeping shirt on after all, Margaret? I'm definitely getting out of MY uniform!"
She stood up. "Sure, show me the way."
He got up and dug the shirt out of his travel bag, tossing it to her. She caught it and went to the huge bathroom penthouse suites boasted.
As she pushed the door shut behind her, she gasped in surprise at the "bathtub." It was more like what would eventually be called a hot tub. That thing would hold six people! she thought, amazed. She walked to the edge, taking a closer look. There were little seats molded into the fine porcelain and what looked like drains and jets all over. She was intrigued, having never seen such a contrivance.
She undressed, carefully hanging her uniform on the door hook to prevent crumpling and wrinkles. She threw the sleeping shirt over her head, found a bit of toothpaste to freshen her breath, floofed her hair up and returned to the living room.
Charles had used the opportunity to change as well, and wore what looked like a Japanese martial arts gi, but this was in black silk with red trim and sash.
Margaret stood in the archway of the big room, watching him pour more amaretto. He was barefoot and casual. She'd never seen him quite this way, so relaxed and natural outside of the usual chaos and mayhem of the 4077th. Tokyo agrees with him, she thought approvingly.
He looked up to see her staring at him, and he smiled back at her. The light blue of his sleeping shirt enhanced her blue eyes, and her curls were adoringly wild. She's so beautiful, he thought.
He went to her, standing close. He returned her snifter. "Divesting ourselves of our uniforms should have been the first order of business, this is so much better!"
Margaret muttered in agreement, looking straight ahead into his chest. She ran her free hand up the middle, where the robe hung slightly open, enjoying the sensual feel of alternating silk and skin. She continued up to the back of his neck, when she pulled him closer, bringing her mouth to the tender juncture of throat and chest.
"Hmmmmm," she muttered again, her tongue and lips teasing the sensitive skin, dipping into the slight depression. Charles pulled her closer to him, feeling the hard tips of her breasts through the slinky material of his robe. Margaret responded ardently by biting and nipping on his throat. The sound of her moaning and sucking on him made his head spin, and he felt his inner muscles tighten instinctively.
Pulling away from him just long enough to set down her snifter, Margaret returned to her interrupted task, hands now free to explore more in-depth.
She pulled him down to her once more, accessing the base of his throat. Her left hand, now free to roam, ran under the edge of the robe, feeling along his chest and up to his shoulder. Oh, how she loved shoulders! She massaged back and forth, shoulder to neck and back again, her mouth furiously working at his throat with nibbles and bites.
She brought both hands down along his sides, putting her face over his heart and pulling him to her once more. Her kisses and nibbles continued. She relished the feel of his skin and rough hair against her, the scent of him, a mix of exquisitely expensive cologne and musky sweat. She described little wet circles over him, pausing when she felt his hard little nipple against her lip. She roughly pulled it into her mouth, pinching it between her teeth, biting almost painfully down, teasing the tender tip with her tongue.
Charles gasped. What the HELL, he thought, amazed. He'd NEVER had a woman do that to him! He felt the pull deep inside his chest and abdomen as he pressed her to him with one hand, his other hand running down her back. He could tell she wore no bra, and was again amazed and utterly enticed when, as his hand dipped lower, he felt she had nothing on at all under his nightshirt.
Oh my, he thought, already imagining the possibilities of this evening. He ached to pull the nightshirt off of her and drink in her beauty, but the night was young yet; he rather liked the veiled mystery of Margaret Houlihan and wanted to take his time exploring her, as she was exploring him at this moment.
His hands reached around to her front, Margaret's mouth still working furiously at him, and he pinched her nipples through the soft cottony material. She sucked in a quick breath at his touch, renewing the fury of her attack on his own.
He gasped again, in pain.
She muttered against him, "Did I hurt you?"
He sighed, "Yes...but it's incredible!"
He felt her chuckle as she moved her mouth back to the center of his chest. Her hands stayed under his robe, sliding to his back and down, down, until she reached his hips, and with a powerful pull, he was pressed against her, his hardness pushing into her abdomen, he was so much taller than she.
"Hmmmm," she moaned once again, enjoying the feel of him against her, the anticipation of what was to come driving her on, and down.
She slowly bent her knees and hips, kissing down the length of him, past his navel and the waist of his comfortable slacks. She wasn't quite on her knees, not being tall enough for that; she put her hands on the backs of his strong thighs and pressed herself against him, through the silky material. She teasingly bit at him, through the silk, noticing as Charles had earlier about herself that he wore nothing underneath. The thought that only this thin silk separated her mouth from him excited them both.
She heard his sharp intake of breath when she'd touched him with her teeth through the barrier of cloth.
"Hmmmm mmmmm," she moaned, as if in agreement of what was to come, sans slacks. She slowly worked her way up again, following the same path she'd taken down on him.
When she was upright again, her face turned up to his, Charles put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her in for a hungry kiss, his mouth pressing painfully against hers, his tongue thrusting greedily into her willing mouth. He lifted her into his arms, surprising her with his strength and passion, and brought her into his bedroom.
He held her there, kissing down her strong jawline to the nape of her neck, one hand pressed against her bare buttock where the nightshirt had lifted, exposing her. She felt the hand grip her as his teeth and lips nibbled and bit her, and she began to move in his arms, writhing with pleasure.
He placed her carefully on the bed, her feet and legs over the side. The shirt, again, had ridden up, taunting him by exposing a small portion of Margaret's inner flesh, teasing him as if to say, "Come closer."
He slowly reached down, never taking his eyes off her, and pulled the shirt down, almost chastely, as if he was not allowed to reach that treasured goal as yet. It had been just enough to torment him with anticipation. All in good time, he thought.