A/N: Well, I've never wrote smut before. But this scene has been in my head for about a month and a half, so I figured I'd give it a try. Let's say this takes place in season two, Post Ponzi. And I'm going by how most fanfic writers write Raph. You know, all controlling and junk. Just cuz it will fit better. Just go with it.
"Jesus, I swear Christy's scream reached a pitch only dogs can hear!" Marshal Mary Shannon strode through the security doors into the Witsec office, Marshall Mann following behind her.
He was smirking at her back as she walked over to the small kitchenette. "I'll admit, she did get pretty high, but she was nowhere near the frequency dogs can hear at. Canines can actually hear up to-"
Mary glared at him as she poured coffee into her mug. "Finish that sentence and I'll make sure you're the one screaming in a pitch only dogs can hear." He continued to grin. "What self-respecting woman is afraid of a mouse?" She sat down at her desk and squinted at him.
Marshall shrugged. "Not all women are like you, Mare. The sight of rodents, blood or bugs make most women scream."
She turned to her computer screen. "Nothing could make me scream," she mumbled under her breath.
"I could find something to make you scream."
"I bet you can't," she tossed back to him. Mary missed the slight darkening of his eyes as he mulled over the comment. An evil smirk appeared on his face as he began to think of a plan.
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Mary was cursing as she strode into the office the next day wearing a skirt. "Good morning, Sunshine," Marshall greeted.
"Bite me."
"Don't tempt me," he responded. Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "What's got you in such a lovely mood today?"
"Raph," she stated. "He decided I'm not feminine enough and hid all of my pants. All of them! Even my yoga pants! So I have to wear this damn thing today."
"You poor thing," he mock-sympathized, standing up and moving towards the security door.
"I hate you." He continued to smile as he left the office.
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She was livid.
Her fight with Raph this morning had left her on edge and everything Eleanor had said or done had set her off. Stan finally separated them by sending Mary to the supply closet to get more paper for the printer. "Isn't this Miss Know-It-All's job?" She questioned aloud as she stood in front of the closet. A hand shot out of the door and pulled her inside, quickly pinning her to the wall of shelves. "Marshall!" Mary whispered harshly. "What the hell are you doing?"
His hands settled on her hips as he lowered his head to hers. "I believe we have a bet," his breath tickled her ear.
She tried not to let his proximity affect her. "What bet? We don't have a bet." Finger tips brushed against the bare skin of her stomach.
He nuzzled against her neck, his left hand moving to her back as his right hand wandered lower. "You bet I couldn't make you scream." Her breath hitched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck. She tried to remember making that bet with him, but her only coherent thought was of where his fingers were. A trail of fire rushed over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. His fingers teased her through the thin fabric of her panties. Marshall kissed the exposed flesh of her chest. She could feel the fire burning in her belly and she arched into him. He dipped his fingers into the elastic of her panties and tugged, ripping the material away from her body. She gasped as his nimble digits slipped into her warm, wet heat.
'Oh my god!' His mouth covered hers, swallowing her moans of pleasure. Mary thrusted against his hand, wanting more contact. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to her. Marshall pushed his fingers deeper, drawing a low moan from Mary.
Marshall pulled out of her grasp and slowly removed his fingers. Mary whimpered at the loss. She watched as he fell to his knees, a devilish smirk on his face. He hitched her skirt around her hips and pulled her leg over his shoulder. Marshall placed soft kisses on the inside of each thigh before leaning forward. His tongue flicked over her clit tenderly. Her eyes closed tightly and she gasped, squirming against him.
He plunged his fingers back into her, delighting in the sounds she was making. Mary gripped onto the shelf behind her, her other hand covering her mouth to silence her moans. Marshall could feel her muscles tensing around him, her cries of pleasure getting louder. She crashed over the edge, her scream muffled by her hand. He gently tugged her skirt back into place and stood. Mary's hand fell limply to her side as she tried to regulate her breathing. Marshall's hands moved to cradle her face and he kissed her softly. He pulled away and held her loosely against him. "I'm right, you're wrong, that is why I sing this song..." he whispered in her ear.
She groaned. "Shut up, Doofus."