A/N: It's SMACked smex! Dylan is my original character first seen in "Since That Cold November Day". For those who followed that story, this falls after Stella and Dylan arrive in New York, visiting Mac (Chapter 25).

If you haven't read "November" yet, it's okay. Dylan Christopher is 3 years old in this story. That's all you need to know. So there. :)

This is a more… smexy version than MJ's (which will be posted on her profile). We have the same start of the story but two different scenarios towards the end. Another thing we have in common… we LOVE putting Mac in hot water

I swear, this is T-rated. (Mel! I know you'll like this!)

CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY

ONE CLOSE CALL

© CATE

"Dylan! Bedtime," Stella cried out from the kitchen. She was just finishing up with the dishes and storing the leftovers.

A whine, clearly coming from two voices came from the living room down the hall. "Aww…" father and son said in unison. She walked towards them with a smile on her face. Mac thought she was beautiful in his old button-down shirt and boxer shorts. Three-year-old Dylan thought she was beautiful simply because she was 'Mommy'.

"Time for bed, baby boy," she said, easing herself on the floor. He was already in his pajamas having brushed his teeth and showered already. Dylan's cute little feet were hanging over the edge of the couch waiting to be tickled. She kissed the soles of his feet.

"Mommy!" he said, pulling his feet up and away from his mother's kisses. "Daddy… beddy bye story?" the little boy pleaded to his father. "Beanstalk?"

Mac carried him to his room and snuggled with him on the bed. Stella brought the book to them and Dylan waited impatiently for one of them to start reading. "Fee-fie-fo-fum," Mac read in his 'giant' voice. Dylan was gripping the comforter while he burrowed closer to his mother. "I smell the blood of a…" he paused and the little boy held his breath. "Of a… little boy from New York in blue checkered nightclothes. Ha ha ha!"

Dylan gasped and looked under the covers. Realizing that it's him that his Daddy was talking about, he said, "Dah-ddy! That's me and not Jack." Stella laughed and stroked his hair. Then he yawned. "Sweepy now."

"Okay, baby boy…" Stella said, placing his downy head on the pillow and pulling the blanket up to his chin. "Good night, I love you," and she kissed him on the nose. Mac did the same thing and flipped the night light on.

Mac and Stella were engaged not long ago. New Year's Day actually. But right now, they were enjoying life together as a family first; getting used to having a little boy in his house. It was fairly easy – stocking up on Cheerios and oatmeal cookies, some Kissables and M&M's for the lady, allotting an hour or two of their day watching educational shows with their son, memorizing repetitive songs sung by purple dinosaurs, blue dogs, and talking pets and farm animals. So far, they were doing a pretty good job at it. One side of Mac's study room was littered with drawings and finger paintings – floor to ceiling and even atop his desk at work. Not that he's complaining.

What was hard to avoid was – well, Dylan's room was directly beside Mac and Stella's bedroom. They share a soundproof wall. And since when do you believe those things? The sounds of squeaky bedsprings and soft pants and sighs might not penetrate the 'wall' but how about orgasmic cries, screams of pleasure and the rhythmic banging of the headboard against another wall? They had to be extra quiet when they 'do it'. Once, they forgot to lock the door – Dylan jumped into bed early the next morning, puzzled, asking Mommy why she was nakie. That took half-a-day's worth of explanation. Twice, Dylan startled them out of their post-orgasmic daze by knocking on the door… asking if any of them could turn on the bathroom lights for him. He would ask what took them so long and why are there noisies coming from inside. Mac just said, "Your mother and I are watching TV." It was pretty easy to convince a three-year-old.

This time, however, Mac and Stella got hot and heavy under the sheets… forgetting to lock the door, turn off the lamp lights in their room – not even bothering to take off all their clothing. After they tucked Dylan in and exited his room, their hands were all over each other. Both were wearing button down tops. Mac had long johns and Stella in one of Mac's boxer shorts. He kicked the door closed and they both flopped onto the bed, tops unbuttoned and her shorts were tangled into the sheets in no time.

Stella had been teasing him since that morning – wearing his clothes, her lace underwear, a dab of perfume on her neck, and not to mention touching and/or rubbing up next to him every chance she got. Her hand lingered on his neck longer than usual when she fastened his tie. She actually secured it on him, her soft breasts against his back – facing the mirror – all the layers of fabric were no match to the heat emanating from her. When he came home, she gave him a firm massage whilst Dylan babbled on excitedly about his day at the park. She was kneeling behind him on the bed, her chest level with his head. He would stiffen when one of her nipples brushed against his ear. When his eyes began to glaze over from the stimulation – her hands and her… well – Dylan snapped him out of it when he sang to him a new song he learned.

Dinnertime was no excuse. Their little boy was enjoying his meatloaf, mashed potatoes and steamed veggies, downing it with milk. Stella poured some oyster sauce over hers and Mac's with a comment, "They were out of oysters at the market this morning. So I got the closest thing." It took him a while to figure out what she was up to. Then he remembered, oysters are considered aphrodisiacs.

Mac and Dylan played cops and robbers in the living room after dinner. When she joined them, their son opted to wrestle with Blue instead. "It's no fair that there are two 'tectives and only one of me," he explained. It was his turn to play robber.

Mac gathered her up in his arms and watched their son lovingly. It's still sinking in – him being a father and pretty soon, having a wife again. And that wife-to-be stealthily placed the palm of her hand on the crotch of his pants while leaning into him. At first, it was a barely noticeable pressure. But gradually, her fingers began to move, tracing the seams of his pants and the zipper.

His breath hitched and he sent her a warning glare. "Not here, Stella," he said without moving his lips much.

"Me? What did I do?" she asked innocently. Her hand stilled but it was a noticeable weight on that part of his anatomy.

"Oh you know what you're doing, Bonasera," he warned her again, shifting slightly.

With that, Dylan's head whipped to their direction, "Bonasera?" he said. "Me or Mommy?"

Mac smiled. They have told him that for now, he's a Bonasera. But in a few months time, he'll be a Taylor. "I'm talking to Mommy, baby boy," he answered. Stella reached behind her and pulled a pillow and placed it strategically over her hand. Once it was covered, she squeezed slightly and Mac released a squeal.

Dylan giggled and returned to the wrestling match with his pet dog. Mac tried to control his body and his breath. "You are a cruel, cruel woman," he whispered, biting at the side of Stella's neck. He later wished he didn't to that because it backfired on him. As his teeth made contact, the fingers around him tightened. His hips shot up against her hand and she began to rub. "Stella…" he panted a quietly as he could. He kept his gaze at their son, no less than 10 feet away from where his wife-to-be was nearly molesting him. He laughed at that thought.

"Enjoying yourself?" she whispered, quickening her strokes. Mac's silent exhale told her all she needed. Mac's hand pressed against the pillow; he was close. And she knew it. So she pulled her hand out and away and said, "I'm going to wash the dishes now," leaving him all worked up and very frustrated.

Stella was smiling when she left the living room and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. She knew that she was going to get it bad tonight but pushing Mac to the brink only to pull back at the last minute is such fun. Besides, she's actually looking forward to his payback. The mere thought of his hands all over her sent shivers down her spine.

And now, those same hands were slipping the boxer shorts off her hips. It got lost somewhere in the sheets of their bed. She helped him unbutton her top and she has his almost off his shoulders. He started kissing her as soon as her back hit the bed and it was obvious that there was no turning back. Stella spread her legs as soon as she felt the bed dip in Mac's weight, making room for him.

Mac wasted no time and pushed his pants down to his knees and got comfortable between Stella's legs. "Oh Mac, that's it," she panted when he felt him move. She bit the pillow beside her head to stifle her moans but they got out nonetheless. His hands were full, his left hand on her waist and his right resting on her breast. She wrapped her legs around him and enjoyed every moment of their fierce lovemaking.