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After the Sharktopus nonsense, Mac decides she's going to rest for a few days. She has a severely sprained ankle that really limits her ability to walk and sand is out of the question unless she wants to just make it worse. While it's frustrating to her, she doesn't mind being in the house for a few days and spending some time just reading books and keeping her own company, which she doesn't particularly mind.

She does, however, miss Jackson and hopes he'll be by to check on her and her stupid injury. She hears a knock at her cottage door and calls out so she doesn't have to get up.

"It's open! I'm in bed." Bed is the most comfortable place to lay around with books, after all, and Mac pushes her reading glasses up on her nose and squints at the tiny print.

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"I have told you that I lived in a cat house, right? I have a slightly skewed perspective." He grins, shifting, leaning over her to press a kiss against her belly. "I mean, it's your ankle that's done in. You could throw a guy a bone."

"Well, what do you want me to do? I can't put any weight on it so whatever you want has to involve me laying here," Mac says, grinning at him. "Laying here like a princess. That's about all I've got."

"I could cope with you just lying there," he says, looking up at her. "There's plenty I could work with there."

"Oh? Well. Here I am, have your way with me," Mac says, laughing a little. She holds her hand up to her face to try and disguise that but she imagines that she's failing miserably at it.

"I mean, if you want."

"There anythin' about my demenour that suggests I might not want?" he asks her, leaning down and pushing her shirt up a little to press a kiss against her belly.

"Noooo, not exactly," Mac says, sighing a little at the feel of his lips. "And you can keep doing that, it feels nice."

His lips move over her skin and he pauses, for a moment, to tease her navel with the tip of his tongue. "Take your shirt off for me," he says, and his tone is soft but there's an edge of an order there, too.

Mac shifts a little to take off her shirt, tossing it over on the floor beside the bed. "Doctor's orders, right? Always have to follow those."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, kissing up between her bare breasts, shifting so he's got a better angle.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind, exactly?" Mac has a decent idea but, being the journalist she is, she sort of wants to hear him put it to words and tell her exactly.

"Honestly? I got sidetracked by the idea of playing with your tits and haven't gotten any further than that," he admits, grinning. "Why? You got thoughts, Miz Mchale?"

"Oh, I don't think I thought it through further than that either," Mac admits. "Just that sounds nice, honestly. I'm not really hard to please."

He grins, lips grazing against one nipple. "Guess it's a question of how to get you off without jarring that ankle. Guess you're not goin' to be crawlin' around on the floor for me today."

"No, I don't think so," Mac says, shaking her head. "Too much risk involved there. We don't want to end up damaging it permanently or anything."

"Well, exactly," he says, moving his lips to her other nipple. "And that wouldn't do. Some we're goin' to have to find some kind of compromise."

"Ah...um, yes, compromise," Mac manages to get out. He's really entirely too distracting with his mouth and she's having trouble getting hers to operate correctly. "What do you think you'd like?"

"I like having you do things," he says, teasing her nipple with the tip of his tongue. "Making you. I like the way you blush when somethin's really dirty and you realise you love it anyway."

"I blush quite a lot, you know. I'm pale and English," Mac says, scoffing at that. Although, it's very true that he does make her blush more than average and he should probably be taking pride in that.

"Mmmmhmm," he says, one hand slipping between her thighs to press against her cunt through her pants as he continues to kiss her breast. "I'll bear that in mind."

Mac gasps. "Uh huh. So I really just have to lay here and be taken care of? You're one hell of a doctor."

"Pretty sure you'll make it up to me," says Jackson, grinning, pressing his fingers against her. "Squirm a bit for me, darlin."

"Not...going to be an issue," Mac whimpers, twisting and squirming exactly as he asks. "I swear to god, you're going to kill me someday."

"But at least you'll die happy," he says, smirking as she squirms against him. "Think I could make you come like this? Through your pants?"

"Probably." The friction is enough to get her there, especially with the added emotional stimulation of there being another person present while she gets off. The texture adds a new element to it entirely and Mac tips her head back. "You're good enough to get me off like this, I'm sure."

"I want you to grind against my fingers until you come," he says, pausing to suck her nipple to a point. "If you're a good girl, I'll go down on you next."