Fic - Sometimes We Lose Ourselves in the Uptake (Lexie, Lexie/Alex), R, 1/1
Title: Sometimes We Lose Ourselves in the Uptake
Summary: This is a bad idea her mind reels, over and over, the words harsh and glaring, and she thinks about telling him again, and ultimately does, because even now, with his hands on her and her mind traveling a million miles a minute, her mouth has a hard time keeping up with her head.
Rating: r
Author's Notes:460 words. Written forever ago for slybrunette @ the Mark and Lexie drabble-a-thon. Set post season 4. General series spoilers. Reposted because lj apparently makes me OCD. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.
“This is a bad idea.”
Her fingers turn into her palms before flexing, before reaching out to find fabric and skin. His are pushing at her shirt, shoving it upwards, fingers finding flesh and digging in. Lexie closes her eyes and catches her breath. He’s kissing the smooth column of her throat, the space where collar bone meets neck. This is a bad idea her mind reels, over and over, the words harsh and glaring, and she thinks about telling him again, and ultimately does, because even now, with his hands on her and her mind traveling a million miles a minute, her mouth has a hard time keeping up with her head.
Alex laughs, the sound husky and soft, and she closes her eyes at the sound of it. “We’ve got time,” he drawls, mouth falling to her shoulder and her hands fall, pressing flat on the wall behind her. It strikes her as odd that they haven’t even kissed yet.
She’s drunk and so is he. There is a bottle of scotch forgotten somewhere between them, and she breathes and sighs, eyelashes slipping against her cheeks as she shudders at the way his hands dip into her jeans, curling upwards, teasing. The heady scent of liquor and smoke lingers among them, a reminder they always carry with them from Joe’s and her nose turns upwards on reflex. They shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be doing this. They had tried before, and he had forgotten about her, and any rational woman would have told him to fuck off and be done with it.
But she’s tired. She’s exhausted and for the entire stretch of time she has been with him he hasn’t mentioned George and she doesn’t mention Ava, and there is something about the way his hands tangle in her hair, pulling, grasping, the sheer bittersweet hurt of it that makes it almost enough.
Closing her eyes tightly she kisses him finally, teeth dragging his lip into her mouth and it’s a quick sort of progression from there. Skilled hands angry and clumsy as they grab at fabric and skin and she slurs something unintelligent as he slides home easily, hand palming her thigh and hooking it around his waist.
It’s quiet and quick, with her eyes closed the entire time, and they fuck like they’re running away from something. He kisses her, just once, lips pressed hard against hers for one second, two second, before pulling away. He tastes like revenge and she comes hard and fast with her fingers on her clit and somebody else’s name on her lips.
He bites her lip and after they don’t look at each other.
(This time she forgets too.)
Summary: This is a bad idea her mind reels, over and over, the words harsh and glaring, and she thinks about telling him again, and ultimately does, because even now, with his hands on her and her mind traveling a million miles a minute, her mouth has a hard time keeping up with her head.
Rating: r
Author's Notes:460 words. Written forever ago for slybrunette @ the Mark and Lexie drabble-a-thon. Set post season 4. General series spoilers. Reposted because lj apparently makes me OCD. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.
“This is a bad idea.”
Her fingers turn into her palms before flexing, before reaching out to find fabric and skin. His are pushing at her shirt, shoving it upwards, fingers finding flesh and digging in. Lexie closes her eyes and catches her breath. He’s kissing the smooth column of her throat, the space where collar bone meets neck. This is a bad idea her mind reels, over and over, the words harsh and glaring, and she thinks about telling him again, and ultimately does, because even now, with his hands on her and her mind traveling a million miles a minute, her mouth has a hard time keeping up with her head.
Alex laughs, the sound husky and soft, and she closes her eyes at the sound of it. “We’ve got time,” he drawls, mouth falling to her shoulder and her hands fall, pressing flat on the wall behind her. It strikes her as odd that they haven’t even kissed yet.
She’s drunk and so is he. There is a bottle of scotch forgotten somewhere between them, and she breathes and sighs, eyelashes slipping against her cheeks as she shudders at the way his hands dip into her jeans, curling upwards, teasing. The heady scent of liquor and smoke lingers among them, a reminder they always carry with them from Joe’s and her nose turns upwards on reflex. They shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be doing this. They had tried before, and he had forgotten about her, and any rational woman would have told him to fuck off and be done with it.
But she’s tired. She’s exhausted and for the entire stretch of time she has been with him he hasn’t mentioned George and she doesn’t mention Ava, and there is something about the way his hands tangle in her hair, pulling, grasping, the sheer bittersweet hurt of it that makes it almost enough.
Closing her eyes tightly she kisses him finally, teeth dragging his lip into her mouth and it’s a quick sort of progression from there. Skilled hands angry and clumsy as they grab at fabric and skin and she slurs something unintelligent as he slides home easily, hand palming her thigh and hooking it around his waist.
It’s quiet and quick, with her eyes closed the entire time, and they fuck like they’re running away from something. He kisses her, just once, lips pressed hard against hers for one second, two second, before pulling away. He tastes like revenge and she comes hard and fast with her fingers on her clit and somebody else’s name on her lips.
He bites her lip and after they don’t look at each other.
(This time she forgets too.)