Fic - A Tiny Revolution (Lexie/Mark) R, 1/1
Title: A Tiny Revolution
Summary: Wherein Mark tries to figure out which way is up and fails miserably. He's never been very good at these sorts of things.
Rating: r
Author's Notes: 568 words. Circa season five. All mistakes are mine. These characters aren't. But that doesn't mean that I think Shonda Rhimes should have them either. Still rusty with these two, so con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
For magisterequitum. Just because.
They fuck a lot at first.
In the mornings before their shifts. In the on-call room during their shifts. After work at the hotel.
Mark just can’t seem to get enough of her and he knows enough to know that the feeling is more than likely mutual
(Case in point: Lexie does this thing where she bites her lip to keep herself from saying the things she wants to say, always on the verge of begging for it, but not allowing herself to actually say the words. She always comes with a sigh cracking along the edges of his name, like she’s thankful, like she didn’t just want it, but needed it and the sound nearly splits him in two every single time.)
Nothing if not a creature of habit, Mark knows the honeymoon period always wears off eventually. Give it two, maybe three weeks and ask any male who is getting sex on the regular: the interest always eventually fades. The got to have you right now feeling that courses through your veins, that consumes you in those initial days and weeks eventually lessens as time goes on.
It is nature, an unwritten law of physics: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. There is no point in trying to outrun the inevitable. He’s been around this particular block enough times to know this is fact.
So he gives it four weeks. Then six. Bides his time with his mouth against hers, between her legs, and that familiar arching of backs filling the distance between.
The shock is genuine when, a month and half later, he still wants her. Still thinks about her all the fucking time. And it’s not just about the sex either. He likes talking to her. Likes just being with her. He and Lexie start doing random things together - walking into the city on their mornings off, watching late night TV before bed, eating meals together (although this is more her doing then his, but he’ll take it. He quickly finds that he’ll take anything she’s willing to give him).
They do all of these things, spend all of this time together and suddenly Mark has amassed this vast array of information pertaining to all things Lexie Grey. He knows how to get her off, how to fuck her just the way she wants. Mark has long since memorized every dip, every contour of her body and it’s nothing new, really. He’s a fast learner and ridiculously good in bed (this isn’t cockiness, mind you, just fact. He’s been told enough times to know he is good in bed) and excellent with his hands and even more so with his mouth. Name a woman he has fucked sometime in the not-too-distant past and chances are he would probably be able to list these things about them too.
But he knows other things, too.
Mark knows how she takes her coffee (skim milk with five sugars), that she likes Crest instead of Colgate and hates mayo but loves chicken salad, despises ketchup but loves tomatoes. Mark knows these things and it hits him out of nowhere one night, in the middle of Letterman with take-out on the coffee table, that this is really only the second time in his life he’s ever taken the time to actually care.
And that is information he has absolutely no idea what to do with.
Summary: Wherein Mark tries to figure out which way is up and fails miserably. He's never been very good at these sorts of things.
Rating: r
Author's Notes: 568 words. Circa season five. All mistakes are mine. These characters aren't. But that doesn't mean that I think Shonda Rhimes should have them either. Still rusty with these two, so con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
For magisterequitum. Just because.
They fuck a lot at first.
In the mornings before their shifts. In the on-call room during their shifts. After work at the hotel.
Mark just can’t seem to get enough of her and he knows enough to know that the feeling is more than likely mutual
(Case in point: Lexie does this thing where she bites her lip to keep herself from saying the things she wants to say, always on the verge of begging for it, but not allowing herself to actually say the words. She always comes with a sigh cracking along the edges of his name, like she’s thankful, like she didn’t just want it, but needed it and the sound nearly splits him in two every single time.)
Nothing if not a creature of habit, Mark knows the honeymoon period always wears off eventually. Give it two, maybe three weeks and ask any male who is getting sex on the regular: the interest always eventually fades. The got to have you right now feeling that courses through your veins, that consumes you in those initial days and weeks eventually lessens as time goes on.
It is nature, an unwritten law of physics: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. There is no point in trying to outrun the inevitable. He’s been around this particular block enough times to know this is fact.
So he gives it four weeks. Then six. Bides his time with his mouth against hers, between her legs, and that familiar arching of backs filling the distance between.
The shock is genuine when, a month and half later, he still wants her. Still thinks about her all the fucking time. And it’s not just about the sex either. He likes talking to her. Likes just being with her. He and Lexie start doing random things together - walking into the city on their mornings off, watching late night TV before bed, eating meals together (although this is more her doing then his, but he’ll take it. He quickly finds that he’ll take anything she’s willing to give him).
They do all of these things, spend all of this time together and suddenly Mark has amassed this vast array of information pertaining to all things Lexie Grey. He knows how to get her off, how to fuck her just the way she wants. Mark has long since memorized every dip, every contour of her body and it’s nothing new, really. He’s a fast learner and ridiculously good in bed (this isn’t cockiness, mind you, just fact. He’s been told enough times to know he is good in bed) and excellent with his hands and even more so with his mouth. Name a woman he has fucked sometime in the not-too-distant past and chances are he would probably be able to list these things about them too.
But he knows other things, too.
Mark knows how she takes her coffee (skim milk with five sugars), that she likes Crest instead of Colgate and hates mayo but loves chicken salad, despises ketchup but loves tomatoes. Mark knows these things and it hits him out of nowhere one night, in the middle of Letterman with take-out on the coffee table, that this is really only the second time in his life he’s ever taken the time to actually care.
And that is information he has absolutely no idea what to do with.