First of all I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed Of Strippers and Desperation. In honour of your kindness I decided to try flexing my smut muscles again and came up with this. It's a little sillier and a lot hotter than my previous effort so be warned. ;)

Disclaimer: my continuing failure to actually own Mac Taylor is the one great tragedy of my life, I cry myself to sleep at night thinking about it.

Have fun.

Mac groaned, one eye cracking open slightly, followed by the other when he realised that it was dark.

He felt woozy and tired and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, drunk.

He groaned again and tried to sit up in bed except that it was beginning to dawn on him that he wasn't in bed. He was curled up on the floor somewhere, although it was too dark to see where exactly.

He made another effort to sit upright and it was the turn of his muscles to groan. Wherever he was he had been curled up here for a while obviously. That was when he realised that in addition to being drunk and sore he was also naked.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, shifting on the carpeted floor.

Something soft brushed against his shoulder but he couldn't see what it was; loose fabric of some kind, almost like satin. Why the hell was there satin hanging over his head?

He shifted again, attempting to relieve the strain in his right arm which was beginning to throb painfully for some reason. But the arm wouldn't shift, instead his wrist clunked heavily into something on the floor.

Mac squinted through the dark to find out what it was and swore again when he realised that he was currently sporting a pair of handcuffs, one bracelet around his right wrist, the other clipped around what looked like a heating pipe near the floor.

Panic began to rise and his clear scientist's brain struggled through the drunken fug to work out what the hell was going on.

Okay, start small, where had he been this evening.

Out, he'd been out at a bar just off Broadway with a couple of guys from his old unit who were in town for a couple of days.

Good, what happened then?

Well, they'd been drinking obviously. It had been quite some time since Mac had done any serious drinking and marines were serious drinkers. They'd called him a bunch of names until he'd joined them, downing shots of tequila or whatever that shit had been.

After that he didn't remember much; shouting, laughing, taking the piss out of him for leaving the corps, joking around, questions. There had been a lot of questions, questions about the lab, about his colleagues, women, questions about Stella.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought Mac back to the present and his brain went into panic overload.

He was naked and handcuffed in a small, dark, enclosed space which he was now pretty sure was some kind of walk-in closet. Even worse, he was pretty sure he knew who the closet belonged to. He was in some seriously deep shit.

His worst fears were confirmed when a light went on somewhere and through the slats that fronted the closet he saw Stella Bonasera walk into the room.

I'm a dead man, he thought, keeping perfectly still as he watched her take off her jacket and shoes and leave again.

Stella had been on call tonight, she must have gotten called out to a scene. She was probably tired and in no mood to deal with a naked drunken man in her closet.

I'm a dead man, he thought again. He had a spare key to her apartment, had had it ever since the ordeal with Frankie; that must have been how they had gotten in to the apartment. He always carried it with him, just in case, but he had never used it. It was for use in extreme emergencies and life or death situations only and now a bunch of drunken marines had used it to break in and play a practical joke on an old friend. It was an unforgiveable betrayal of trust and if he managed to somehow get out of here alive he was pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her and never succeed.

And he would deserve it.

Alright, then you're just gonna have to get out of here before she finds you, he thought.

Just then he heard the sound of a shower being turned on, followed by the sound of Stella humming.

Perfect. If he could get out of these damn cuffs he could make a run for it before she got out of the shower and she'd never know he'd been there.

The realisation of his predicament was beginning to sober him up and with the light coming through the slats of the closet he squinted at the cuffs, trying to see if there was a way out.

Unfortunately they appeared to be his cuffs and whoever had applied them had known what they were doing. There was no sign of the key and the clasps were solid; short of sawing through either the pipe or the chain there was no way he was getting out. But he had to try and so he began frantically wriggling his wrist in an attempt to slide the cuff off.

But a small part of his brain was rather behind the rest and had clearly not recovered from his earlier overindulgence. That little part of his brain was prodding away at him, reminding him that there was an extremely attractive woman in the shower less than ten feet away from him.

Mac tried to ignore it. This was not the time to be thinking about Stella in the shower, except of course he just had.

He let out another groan, this time of annoyance, and tried to concentrate on the task in hand.

He and Stella had been carrying on behind Sinclair's back for nearly four months now, although he wasn't sure you could really call it carrying on. There had been kissing and… well, mostly just kissing to be honest.

The fact that Sinclair hadn't been tempted to fire either Danny or Lindsey, or Mac for not firing them himself for that matter, had given them a little hope but the chief could be unpredictable and the fact that Mac was her boss made things more complicated.

They had agreed to keep things low-key and so far no one knew about them. The only problem was that it was difficult to find time to see each other off the clock. One or other of them was usually on call or pulling a double shift to get a case finished.

The most intimate contact they'd managed in the whole four months had been one night when they'd managed to grab a couple of hours in front of the TV at his place and Stella had given him a backrub. He'd been so relaxed afterwards that she'd asked him if he wanted a cigarette. They'd both laughed at that but the night had ended with both of them falling asleep on the sofa and he'd woken up the next morning with a real pain in his shoulder, undoing all Stella's good work from the night before.

Any time either of them had tried to take things even a little further a phone had rung and one or other of them had been called to a scene. He didn't mind really, it had been a while since he had last had sex and he had kind of learned to live without it.

Unfortunately that insistent little part of his brain clearly hadn't learned to live without and it was still prodding him when he heard the water shut off and Stella coming out of the bathroom.

He looked down at his hand. There was no way that cuff was coming off.

Maybe he should just come clean; call for help and say he'd just woken up, beg for his life. If she didn't find him tonight she'd just find him the next morning when she came to get dressed. Should he take his chances?

Maybe she'd be more inclined to take it as a joke come the morning and in the meantime he could try and find another way of getting out of here while she was asleep.

No, there was no way out, he had to face it. He should just call to her quietly when she came back into the room, try not to scare her too much, and suffer the consequences he so rightly deserved.

Sighing he straightened up as best he could in the confined space, and almost choked to death when Stella entered the room once more completely naked.

Mac closed his eyes quickly but the image of her, all tanned skin and long legs, seemed to be burned onto the inside of his eyelids.

She was still humming to herself and there was the sound of a drawer opening.

He risked opening one eye in the hope that she had put some pyjamas on but was instead faced with Stella's pert backside wiggling practically in his face.

He felt his groin start to tighten. Okay so maybe he hadn't learned to live without sex entirely. He closed his eyes again.

"There you are," she said after a few seconds of rummaging.

Mac wondered for a second if he'd been caught but doubted it. She wasn't screaming.

"Okay bunny, time for you and I to have a little fun."


Mac opened his eyes again and squinted through the slats. She still had her back to him as she walked towards the bed but when she sat down he suddenly saw what she had been talking about and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

In her hand there was a bright red rampant rabbit. By the looks of it the damn thing must have measured around eight inches and it was very thick.

Stella was sitting cross-legged on the bed, sideways on to the closet. She flipped the little battery hatch in the base open and smiled. Her little friend was clearly full. Then she pressed the on switch, testing it a couple of times against her fingertips, turning the vibration dial up and down to make sure everything was in full working order.

A smile brightening her face she lay down on the bed, her legs spread slightly, the vibrator at her side.

Slowly raising her hands to her chest she began to stroke her breasts, running her fingers lazily over her nipples, tweaking them to pertness and then massaging them back down once more, moaning softly to herself as she did so.

In the closet Mac could only blink and stare. He was not watching this, this was not happening, there was just no way! His most adolescent fantasy and his greatest nightmare were coming true at the same time and he had to grit his teeth in an attempt to control his body which was attempting to respond to what it was seeing.

Stella's left hand now left her breast and trailed hypnotically down across her stomach and down between her legs.

She let out a soft, "oh," at the contact, her eyes closing as she continued to stroke herself.

Mac shut his eyes too. He shouldn't be watching this. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut it wouldn't be so bad. But her breath was coming in little gasps now and she moaned again. He could hear the rustle of fabric as she shifted on the bed and then the unmistakeable sound of the vibrator being switched on.

She moaned louder; an, "oh God" that made him pray for a bucket of ice water.

The closet felt ridiculously small and hot and he could feel all the blood in his body draining downwards below his waist where his interest in what was going on seemed to swell with each breath she took.

"Oh yessss…. Oh God yes, that feels so good!"

Mac scrunched his eyes up and put one finger of his free hand in his ear to try and block her out but her next exclamation got his attention once more.

"Mmmm, oh yes," she murmured, "oh… Mac!"

Mac's eyes slammed open.

Stella Bonasersa, his Stella, the woman he'd been denying his feelings for for several years, the woman whom he'd only ever kissed, the woman who invaded his dreams at night and performed lewd sexual acts on his subconscious, that woman was reclining on her bed before him, completely naked and pleasuring herself while calling his name!

If there was even a chance that he could have gotten control of his body before, it was gone now; he was fully erect and begging to have something done about it. His free hand moved unconsciously, no longer taking orders from his brain and he bit his tongue to keep his own moan inside his mouth.

Outside on the bed Stella shifted position, bending her knees and spreading her legs wider as her body arched away from the bed and she moaned uncontrollably, Mac's name still pouring from her lips which were swollen from being nipped by her teeth.

Her hips bucked harder as she turned the dial up, increasing the speed of the vibrations coursing through her. In the cupboard Mac's hand sped up, his eyes watering as he stared at her.

"Oh God Mac, baby!" she screamed as she came and Mac's teeth clamped down on everything they could reach, his tongue, the insides of his mouth, in order to stop himself crying out her name as he peaked while her orgasm continued to wash over her.

Stella lay panting and shivering on the bed, her eyes closed. Nearby in the cupboard Mac was desperately trying to keep his breathing under control so that she wouldn't hear him.

After a few minutes Stella got up. Crossing the room she found some tissues and wiped the vibrator clean, setting it down on the bedside table before going to the door and wrapping herself in the short Chinese silk robe that hung there.

She left the room again, allowing Mac to breathe more deeply for a few seconds until she returned. But to his horror she made right for the closet and opened the doors wide.

She smiled down at the man now cowering on the floor before her.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked a little breathlessly.

A/N: Okay, I know some people might have a problem with Mac drinking that heavily but trust me, my best friend used to date a guy in thenavyand she's met both British and US marines and if there's one thing they are good at it's getting ridiculously drunk and playing pranks on each other. I just figured that Mac's buddies might not have matured as much as he clearly has ;)