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It's fucking hot.

Mac has never been the best when she's not in complete comfort and while she didn't bitch when she was embedded because she had a job to do, she's back on the island after having been in air conditioning for three days and she's annoyed. It's irrational, but nothing about pregnancy is rational, is it?

Jackson is next to her, which makes the bed that much warmer, and she huffs and comes out from under the sheet to lay on top of it completely naked. She fans herself ineffectually with her hand.

"Why does it have to be so goddamn hot?"

She's possibly whining more than a little.

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Mac thinks for a moment and then taps one breast. "Right here, I think. Is that all right?"

He doesn't bother to answer her, stroking his hand over his cock until he comes, hot and liquid across her tits.

"Rub that in," he says, dropping down into a sitting position, breathless from exertion.

It's ridiculous, possibly, but terribly erotic and Mac does just as he asks, rubbing it in to her skin. "How do I look, honey?"

"Filthy," he says, without a moment's hesitation as she fondles her own breasts. "Beautiful."

"Have I been good enough to be allowed to go to bed?" she asks, still touching herself lightly.

"Fuck yes," he says, pushing himself off the floor and reaching down to take her hands. "But we are not walking back to your place."

"No, I wanted to stay here," she says, taking his hands and getting to her feet. "I'm too tired to go all the way back home. It'd be easier if we lived one place or the other, you know."

"Miz McHale," he drawls, tugging the blindfold from over her eyes and guiding her into the hut. "Are you suggesting I give up my virtue and live a life of sin?"

Mac arches a brow. "Really? You just fucked me into the ground out there and you're worried about living in sin?"

"Technically," he says, unbuttoning his shirt as they move towards the bed, "I think you'll find that I fucked you into the porch."

"Technically I don't think it matters a whit because we fuck all the time and you sleep over most nights," Mac says, laughing. "Why be proper about it?"

"I'm teasing you, Mac," he says, shedding all of his clothes before climbing into bed and looking at her expectantly. "Ain't no-one going to judge us here. Though I do wonder what Mister Tesla'll make of it."

"He can go fuck himself," Mac says, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't get to play with my emotions by telling me he loves me but not wanting to commit to me."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Well, we'll see what it comes to when I'm the one living in a house with his kid."

"Do you honestly think it would matter? The baby is...it's my responsibility. I can choose whomever I want to help me parent," Mac says, stubborn about this. She slides into bed next to him, a little frantic with anger and stress.

"I want you to live with me, Jackson, but it's up to you whether you want to."

"I like the idea of it, darlin," he admits, stroking her hair. "But you'd better be sure. It's a hard enough thing to take back once there's a kid involved."

"I wouldn't take it back," she mumbles, irritated at the implication she might. "I mean it. I mean the offer. I want to be with you and share my house with you. It's just...I don't want you to have to live with a baby if you don't want it."

"It's a lot," he says, quietly, stroking her arm. "Let me dwell on it, okay?"

"Okay," she says, content to let it drop for the moment.

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