(no subject)
I abandoned perfect_cap to write this, and now I'm going to bed, so this is partially an evening parting gift for her.
Title: AKA Only Time [download]
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There’s a bar and a pool table and, you know, that redhead’s really damn good at it.
Note: Pool is an incredibly sexualized game and it was really hard not to laugh while writing some of this. And I suggest you download the song because a) it's good, b) I said so and c) it's the music that fits with the fic rather than the title.
The weekend after their first year of medical school began found two childhood best friends roaming the streets, determined to find the best bars in Boston. They knew it would be a long and complicated process and, ultimately, fruitless but nonetheless fun. Monday through Thursday had presented several options, most of which were frequented by undergraduate students ripe with the energy of being away from home and the thrill of purchasing alcohol. The establishment owners were too smart to bother checking IDs for the revenue was far greater than the slap on the wrist if caught. They traveled into side streets and alleys, having been informed that they wouldn’t find anything good unless they opened doors without flashing lights and lines in front of them.
“Hey, let’s hit this one.” Derek nodded his head at an inconspicuous door in an equally inconspicuous brick wall. General crowd noise filtered through the cracks in the heavy door and, squinting through the condensation on the windows, he could tell it was full of promise. An old fashioned sign hung out into the alley over the door, a faded painting of a beer stein next to the word PUB. They both wondered what the name of the place was but shrugged and opened the door and stepped inside out of the rising fog.
After ordering drinks and finding a corner to stand in - base camp for surveying women, as Mark considered it - they looked around the place and decided it was a good one. Its hole-in-the-wall nature kept it hidden from anyone but regulars and people like themselves and half of the wall over the bar (the half not taken up by a listing of beer) was dedicated to a chalkboard that proudly displayed standings for darts and pool. A few people were intently watching televisions on mute, hoping to catch every word of the tape-delayed close-captioning, and a decent portion of the occupants were sitting at tables or the bar chatting or flirting or occasionally both. But most were gathered around the two pool tables in the back, cheering on the players through a light haze of cigarette smoke.
At first they thought it was a friendly game of some kind with bragging rights on the line but an overheard conversation informed them otherwise. An impromptu bracket game had been going on since sunset and they were down to the final four players; winner took forty-five percent of the money bet, organizer took ten and the remaining thirty-five would be split up between those who bet on the winner. The betting pool was closed but it didn’t matter since they didn’t know any of the players or how good they were, just that a guy named Montgomery was slated to win and keep his title for the sixth month in a row. They shrugged at each other, figuring why the hell not, and made their way to the back to see what was going on.
The second game just ended and a tall, beautiful, fair-skinned woman with fiery red hair broke into a grin as she solidly sank the eight ball into the far corner pocket. Her opponent jokingly claimed distraction as his reason for the loss and the two men couldn’t blame him. In order to get the difficult shot she leaned over the table, almost completely lying her torso on the well-worn green felt, giving half of the room’s occupants a view of her chest and the other half a good view of her ass. Mark had a suspicion, and Derek agreed, that it wasn’t an occurrence solely reserved for the end of the game.
“Which one’s Montgomery?” Mark asked a man next to him, a man who almost blended in with the woodwork and was sure to be a solid regular and know what was going on. He stepped aside to let the woman pass and head to the bar to get another beer.
“That one,” the man answered, pointing at the woman. “Addison Montgomery. She’s been kicking everyone’s ass since her senior year of college and doesn’t look like she’s gonna stop.”
Mark blinked back his initial shock that the person very much at the top of the rankings for what he thought to be a very manly game was a woman and tried to figure out what graduate school she was in. “Law school?”
“Med school,” she answered on her way back, the brief break between games almost over. A smug grin crossed her face and it lasted just long enough for Mark to register that she was a dangerous woman before she headed back to the table, beer in hand.
“Alright!” A man who looked like an accountant and probably ran the show with an impeccable number book stood up on a chair to shush as many people as he could. No one was listening, but he wanted the power moment anyway. “Final game. Montgomery versus Davidson. We’re at three-to-one odds Montgomery, eleven-to-one, Davidson. By the complicated virtue of a single coin toss, Addison breaks.”
She smirked her thanks and blew him a cute kiss. After thoroughly chalking the tip of her cue, she picked an angle and aimed. With a few air strikes out of the way, she hit the cue ball hard and broke the triangle of balls perfectly, sinking two solids. When she first started playing, she appropriately claimed beginner’s luck but kept secret the bit about acing every physics test she ever took. She picked up a few tricks from some of the older men who played in the middle of the day and soon began working her way up the bar’s ladder. The virtue of statistics (calculated perfectly by the powerless accountant) kept her in the top spot but she did lose games and turn down challenges on occasion. Not, she said, because she thought she might lose but because she needed to get her ass kicked in something to keep her ego down and challenged the challenger to a game of darts instead.
Her opponent had three balls left on the table; she only had the eight ball. Mark and Derek found themselves silently cheering for her even though they felt they should be cheering for the other guy, the underdog. It was mostly that she was excruciatingly hot, walking around the table and calculating her options in a pair of jeans and a strappy tank top that she had long given up on making cover part of her stomach.
“Side pocket,” she pointed with her cue.
Derek shook his head. “Not what I would’ve done,” he whispered to Mark through the ambient noise of the bar. No one bothered to halt conversations and go quiet when games were nearing the end (after all, it wasn’t golf, it was pool and in a bar) so no one but Mark heard him.
Mark lightly shoved him. “You don’t know shit about pool.”
Lining up the shot, she quickly sank the eight ball perfectly (without having to bend over the table, she reminded her opponent at the end with a smile) and everyone cheered. Though some people were pissed off that she beat almost everyone she played, saying it wasn’t fun if one person kept taking it all, most people liked her around and she was a good winner. When money was involved she would secretly split the winnings sixty/forty with her opponent, finding it unfair that someone who played five winning games only to lose in the sixth should get no reward for a night well done.
Prize money pocketed, she headed straight for Mark. Derek had wondered off to the bar with the woman who had been standing next to them and Mark was sure he wouldn’t see him again until the morning. “I’ll let you buy me a drink to make up for the law school comment and being sexist and impressively shocked when you found out I was a girl.” She said it without room for argument and Mark wasn’t inclined to complain.
They chatted easily, finding an abandoned corner that they left only to refill drinks when necessary. The crowd started to thin out around one and Addison looked at him with a challenge.
“One game.”
“What?”
“You’ve been dying to play me all night. One game.”
Her double entendre did not go unnoticed and he immediately agreed, following her to the vacant table. “Stakes?”
“Hm,” she thought, racking the balls up while Mark chose a cue. “Well,” she rolled the triangle a few times to line everything up and then lifted it out of the way and hung it onto the wall, motioning for him to break. “Either way you’re getting laid, so that’s not really something worth betting.”
Mark missed the shot impressively, barely knocking the corner balls out of place. “You timed that on purpose.”
“Yep.” She smiled and shot, breaking things up. “Stripes.”
“What makes you think I want to sleep with you?” He prided himself on getting a ball in when it was his turn, though immediately table scratched.
“Oh, please,” she hit an easy shot into a corner pocket and stood up, re-chalking her cue. Her hands were covered in green chalk dust from the evening’s competition and she didn’t feel it necessary to clean it completely off after every game; she was happy if she didn’t end up with it smudged on her forehead. “You’ve been mentally taking my pants off all night. Plus,” she hit a Hail Mary shot once she realized she didn’t have any viable shots and wasn’t surprised when it didn’t do much but move things around, “your hand was pretty high up on my thigh before we stood up and moved to the corner.”
Mark groaned in discovery that she successfully divested him of any possible shot, even if the rules of physics and friction were eliminated. He noticed that her remaining balls were behind the cue line so he intentionally sank the cue ball in lieu of having to respond.
Addison threw a glare in response to his smirk. Much to his surprise, and none of her own, she managed to sink one, even with having to bounce it off the far bumper. She took her turn to smirk and promptly took the rest of the game. She could have let it go on and given him a real chance, but she had been playing for hours, was slightly to mostly drunk, and really horny. And a hot guy was staring at her like he wouldn’t mind alleviating her of the horny problem.
They hailed a cab and she gave directions to her place, not trusting the status of housing that belonged to someone who looked as frat boy-ish as Mark. He insisted on paying the driver, even though she had just won a considerable amount of money all in cash, and they got out. Addison hadn’t realized how alcoholically happy she was until she stood up and giggled, forever forgetting that her mind wiped out all haze when she was playing. She suddenly found herself being kissed and granted his tongue entrance to her mouth, following his every move with urgency. She broke apart with a need for air and a taste for decency and a knowledge that her neighbors, if they were awake, would not appreciate seeing what was about to happen through their front windows.
Hanging her keys up on the hook next to the door, she mentally sighed in relief at the three empty hooks next to hers. Even though her room was the finished part of the basement and even if the acoustics in the house were so awful you couldn’t hear from the living room to the kitchen without shouting, she would’ve felt that everyone had heard everything if they were all home. She always felt more comfortable with one-night stands if the house was empty save her and the lucky boy; she was too tipsy to think of Mark as possibly being anything more and, if she were sober, she would say definitely not - she didn’t have time for anything more than just sex. She flipped the light switch that turned on a dim lamp in the corner as a formality and kind gesture; in case anyone came home more intoxicated than she was and had trouble standing up straight let alone finding a light.
“Upstairs?” Mark queried, removing his jacket from her shoulders and draping it over a chair, taking care to drag his fingers across the skin of her stomach.
She shook her head and caught his hand, smiling at his confusion and quickly tugged him toward the half-open door in the kitchen across from the food closet. She reached around him and pulled the basement door shut tight behind them and made her way blindly down the stairs, knowing exactly how many steps there were, with Mark’s hands distracting her all the way. The light from her lava lamp - always clicked on before she left the house for the same purpose as the courtesy lamp upstairs - cast a soft blue glow over everything and gave just enough light to see what was going on.
They stood silently for a few moments before their lips crashed against each other and the great race to divest the other of their clothing began. Mark won, wiggling Addison’s pants down to the floor only seconds before she got his belt undone, and made no secret of his enjoyment. His glory was short lived, however, soon finding himself on his back on her bed, also pantsless, with her on top of him sporting a smug grin. He pulled her down for a kiss, his lips swiping away the grin, and unhooked her bra. His hands instinctively came up to cup her breasts and he moaned in enjoyment, tweaking her nipples between his fingers. He gasped suddenly, her hands had made their way below his boxers and her fingernails gently raked the skin of his hips before her fingers trailed over his erection to eventually grasp him firmly and begin stroking him. Needing her too much, he rolled them over and helped her kick a blanket onto the floor and he pulled her panties off in one motion. She grinned up at him, shoving his boxers away, and spread her legs; she didn’t care what impression it might have given him, it was easier access and hell if she wasn’t going to give it to him.
He slipped a finger inside of her without warning and kissed the hollow of her collarbone at the same time, eliciting a surprised moan from her swollen lips. He smiled into her skin and trailed kisses down to her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. She groaned and he could tell, by the way she was responding and how wet she was when he added a second finger, that it wasn’t for show. He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to let go during sex and he sped up his fingers and added his thumb on her clit, grazing his teeth over her nipple before switching to the other one.
She closed her eyes and let her head lie back as she writhed under his touch. He wasn’t doing anything new to her, she’d had fingers inside of her and mouths on her breasts before, but he was touching her so exquisitely that every nerve was set on fire. She barely had time to let out a whimper before he did something fantastic with his fingers and she was crying out her release.
Mark decided, as he moved away from her breasts to watch her, that Addison in the throes of an orgasm was a beautiful thing. Her eyes closed, mouth open in soft ecstasy, and her hips involuntarily bucked up and he steadied them with his free hand. The red hair that, earlier in the evening, was straightened and styled to perfection now lay tangled around her. She nodded at him, breathing hard, after he gently let her come down, and he positioned himself over her.
“Do we need...?” he checked just in case, not wanting any surprises in a few weeks.
She shook her head. “I’m ...” she didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as he fluidly slid into her the moment he knew it was okay. He was a little bigger than she was used to, in an incredibly good amazing way, so it took her a bit longer than normal to get used to him but it was worth the wait. She opened her eyes and wriggled her hips with a smile, a soft gasp escaping her lips when he began to move inside of her.
Slowly at first, but he picked up speed once he noticed her meeting his thrusts. They easily found a rhythm together and moved in unison, both moaning loudly when Addison shifted herself under him and locked her legs around his back, pushing him deeper. He kissed her, almost bruisingly, and slipped a hand between them to play with her clit. His fingers had the desired effect and she broke the kiss, panting, and her muscles involuntarily tightened. It wasn’t much longer before he felt himself on the edge and he thrust into her harder, her noises of pleasure telling him he wasn’t hurting her, and he came with one final stroke, burying his face in her shoulder. She clenched around him tightly and came quickly after him, his warmth spreading inside of her sending her over.
He hovered over her for a few moments, watching as a hazy smile formed over her lips. He then flipped over her, lying next to her, deciding to let her tell him whether he was staying or whether there was cuddling involved. Addison rolled onto her stomach and lay partially on top of him, their skin sticking together. They caught their breath in silence and Mark wrapped his arms around her with a kiss on her forehead.
“That was really good,” she said after a while, laughing to herself.
Mark nodded in agreement, laughing with her. “Yeah, it was.” He paused and smirked. “Wanna do it again?”
She looked at him and laughed a little harder. “Mark, I don’t think I can move just yet.”
He smiled and smoothed out her hair. “I can wait.”
Title: AKA Only Time [download]
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There’s a bar and a pool table and, you know, that redhead’s really damn good at it.
Note: Pool is an incredibly sexualized game and it was really hard not to laugh while writing some of this. And I suggest you download the song because a) it's good, b) I said so and c) it's the music that fits with the fic rather than the title.
The weekend after their first year of medical school began found two childhood best friends roaming the streets, determined to find the best bars in Boston. They knew it would be a long and complicated process and, ultimately, fruitless but nonetheless fun. Monday through Thursday had presented several options, most of which were frequented by undergraduate students ripe with the energy of being away from home and the thrill of purchasing alcohol. The establishment owners were too smart to bother checking IDs for the revenue was far greater than the slap on the wrist if caught. They traveled into side streets and alleys, having been informed that they wouldn’t find anything good unless they opened doors without flashing lights and lines in front of them.
“Hey, let’s hit this one.” Derek nodded his head at an inconspicuous door in an equally inconspicuous brick wall. General crowd noise filtered through the cracks in the heavy door and, squinting through the condensation on the windows, he could tell it was full of promise. An old fashioned sign hung out into the alley over the door, a faded painting of a beer stein next to the word PUB. They both wondered what the name of the place was but shrugged and opened the door and stepped inside out of the rising fog.
After ordering drinks and finding a corner to stand in - base camp for surveying women, as Mark considered it - they looked around the place and decided it was a good one. Its hole-in-the-wall nature kept it hidden from anyone but regulars and people like themselves and half of the wall over the bar (the half not taken up by a listing of beer) was dedicated to a chalkboard that proudly displayed standings for darts and pool. A few people were intently watching televisions on mute, hoping to catch every word of the tape-delayed close-captioning, and a decent portion of the occupants were sitting at tables or the bar chatting or flirting or occasionally both. But most were gathered around the two pool tables in the back, cheering on the players through a light haze of cigarette smoke.
At first they thought it was a friendly game of some kind with bragging rights on the line but an overheard conversation informed them otherwise. An impromptu bracket game had been going on since sunset and they were down to the final four players; winner took forty-five percent of the money bet, organizer took ten and the remaining thirty-five would be split up between those who bet on the winner. The betting pool was closed but it didn’t matter since they didn’t know any of the players or how good they were, just that a guy named Montgomery was slated to win and keep his title for the sixth month in a row. They shrugged at each other, figuring why the hell not, and made their way to the back to see what was going on.
The second game just ended and a tall, beautiful, fair-skinned woman with fiery red hair broke into a grin as she solidly sank the eight ball into the far corner pocket. Her opponent jokingly claimed distraction as his reason for the loss and the two men couldn’t blame him. In order to get the difficult shot she leaned over the table, almost completely lying her torso on the well-worn green felt, giving half of the room’s occupants a view of her chest and the other half a good view of her ass. Mark had a suspicion, and Derek agreed, that it wasn’t an occurrence solely reserved for the end of the game.
“Which one’s Montgomery?” Mark asked a man next to him, a man who almost blended in with the woodwork and was sure to be a solid regular and know what was going on. He stepped aside to let the woman pass and head to the bar to get another beer.
“That one,” the man answered, pointing at the woman. “Addison Montgomery. She’s been kicking everyone’s ass since her senior year of college and doesn’t look like she’s gonna stop.”
Mark blinked back his initial shock that the person very much at the top of the rankings for what he thought to be a very manly game was a woman and tried to figure out what graduate school she was in. “Law school?”
“Med school,” she answered on her way back, the brief break between games almost over. A smug grin crossed her face and it lasted just long enough for Mark to register that she was a dangerous woman before she headed back to the table, beer in hand.
“Alright!” A man who looked like an accountant and probably ran the show with an impeccable number book stood up on a chair to shush as many people as he could. No one was listening, but he wanted the power moment anyway. “Final game. Montgomery versus Davidson. We’re at three-to-one odds Montgomery, eleven-to-one, Davidson. By the complicated virtue of a single coin toss, Addison breaks.”
She smirked her thanks and blew him a cute kiss. After thoroughly chalking the tip of her cue, she picked an angle and aimed. With a few air strikes out of the way, she hit the cue ball hard and broke the triangle of balls perfectly, sinking two solids. When she first started playing, she appropriately claimed beginner’s luck but kept secret the bit about acing every physics test she ever took. She picked up a few tricks from some of the older men who played in the middle of the day and soon began working her way up the bar’s ladder. The virtue of statistics (calculated perfectly by the powerless accountant) kept her in the top spot but she did lose games and turn down challenges on occasion. Not, she said, because she thought she might lose but because she needed to get her ass kicked in something to keep her ego down and challenged the challenger to a game of darts instead.
Her opponent had three balls left on the table; she only had the eight ball. Mark and Derek found themselves silently cheering for her even though they felt they should be cheering for the other guy, the underdog. It was mostly that she was excruciatingly hot, walking around the table and calculating her options in a pair of jeans and a strappy tank top that she had long given up on making cover part of her stomach.
“Side pocket,” she pointed with her cue.
Derek shook his head. “Not what I would’ve done,” he whispered to Mark through the ambient noise of the bar. No one bothered to halt conversations and go quiet when games were nearing the end (after all, it wasn’t golf, it was pool and in a bar) so no one but Mark heard him.
Mark lightly shoved him. “You don’t know shit about pool.”
Lining up the shot, she quickly sank the eight ball perfectly (without having to bend over the table, she reminded her opponent at the end with a smile) and everyone cheered. Though some people were pissed off that she beat almost everyone she played, saying it wasn’t fun if one person kept taking it all, most people liked her around and she was a good winner. When money was involved she would secretly split the winnings sixty/forty with her opponent, finding it unfair that someone who played five winning games only to lose in the sixth should get no reward for a night well done.
Prize money pocketed, she headed straight for Mark. Derek had wondered off to the bar with the woman who had been standing next to them and Mark was sure he wouldn’t see him again until the morning. “I’ll let you buy me a drink to make up for the law school comment and being sexist and impressively shocked when you found out I was a girl.” She said it without room for argument and Mark wasn’t inclined to complain.
They chatted easily, finding an abandoned corner that they left only to refill drinks when necessary. The crowd started to thin out around one and Addison looked at him with a challenge.
“One game.”
“What?”
“You’ve been dying to play me all night. One game.”
Her double entendre did not go unnoticed and he immediately agreed, following her to the vacant table. “Stakes?”
“Hm,” she thought, racking the balls up while Mark chose a cue. “Well,” she rolled the triangle a few times to line everything up and then lifted it out of the way and hung it onto the wall, motioning for him to break. “Either way you’re getting laid, so that’s not really something worth betting.”
Mark missed the shot impressively, barely knocking the corner balls out of place. “You timed that on purpose.”
“Yep.” She smiled and shot, breaking things up. “Stripes.”
“What makes you think I want to sleep with you?” He prided himself on getting a ball in when it was his turn, though immediately table scratched.
“Oh, please,” she hit an easy shot into a corner pocket and stood up, re-chalking her cue. Her hands were covered in green chalk dust from the evening’s competition and she didn’t feel it necessary to clean it completely off after every game; she was happy if she didn’t end up with it smudged on her forehead. “You’ve been mentally taking my pants off all night. Plus,” she hit a Hail Mary shot once she realized she didn’t have any viable shots and wasn’t surprised when it didn’t do much but move things around, “your hand was pretty high up on my thigh before we stood up and moved to the corner.”
Mark groaned in discovery that she successfully divested him of any possible shot, even if the rules of physics and friction were eliminated. He noticed that her remaining balls were behind the cue line so he intentionally sank the cue ball in lieu of having to respond.
Addison threw a glare in response to his smirk. Much to his surprise, and none of her own, she managed to sink one, even with having to bounce it off the far bumper. She took her turn to smirk and promptly took the rest of the game. She could have let it go on and given him a real chance, but she had been playing for hours, was slightly to mostly drunk, and really horny. And a hot guy was staring at her like he wouldn’t mind alleviating her of the horny problem.
They hailed a cab and she gave directions to her place, not trusting the status of housing that belonged to someone who looked as frat boy-ish as Mark. He insisted on paying the driver, even though she had just won a considerable amount of money all in cash, and they got out. Addison hadn’t realized how alcoholically happy she was until she stood up and giggled, forever forgetting that her mind wiped out all haze when she was playing. She suddenly found herself being kissed and granted his tongue entrance to her mouth, following his every move with urgency. She broke apart with a need for air and a taste for decency and a knowledge that her neighbors, if they were awake, would not appreciate seeing what was about to happen through their front windows.
Hanging her keys up on the hook next to the door, she mentally sighed in relief at the three empty hooks next to hers. Even though her room was the finished part of the basement and even if the acoustics in the house were so awful you couldn’t hear from the living room to the kitchen without shouting, she would’ve felt that everyone had heard everything if they were all home. She always felt more comfortable with one-night stands if the house was empty save her and the lucky boy; she was too tipsy to think of Mark as possibly being anything more and, if she were sober, she would say definitely not - she didn’t have time for anything more than just sex. She flipped the light switch that turned on a dim lamp in the corner as a formality and kind gesture; in case anyone came home more intoxicated than she was and had trouble standing up straight let alone finding a light.
“Upstairs?” Mark queried, removing his jacket from her shoulders and draping it over a chair, taking care to drag his fingers across the skin of her stomach.
She shook her head and caught his hand, smiling at his confusion and quickly tugged him toward the half-open door in the kitchen across from the food closet. She reached around him and pulled the basement door shut tight behind them and made her way blindly down the stairs, knowing exactly how many steps there were, with Mark’s hands distracting her all the way. The light from her lava lamp - always clicked on before she left the house for the same purpose as the courtesy lamp upstairs - cast a soft blue glow over everything and gave just enough light to see what was going on.
They stood silently for a few moments before their lips crashed against each other and the great race to divest the other of their clothing began. Mark won, wiggling Addison’s pants down to the floor only seconds before she got his belt undone, and made no secret of his enjoyment. His glory was short lived, however, soon finding himself on his back on her bed, also pantsless, with her on top of him sporting a smug grin. He pulled her down for a kiss, his lips swiping away the grin, and unhooked her bra. His hands instinctively came up to cup her breasts and he moaned in enjoyment, tweaking her nipples between his fingers. He gasped suddenly, her hands had made their way below his boxers and her fingernails gently raked the skin of his hips before her fingers trailed over his erection to eventually grasp him firmly and begin stroking him. Needing her too much, he rolled them over and helped her kick a blanket onto the floor and he pulled her panties off in one motion. She grinned up at him, shoving his boxers away, and spread her legs; she didn’t care what impression it might have given him, it was easier access and hell if she wasn’t going to give it to him.
He slipped a finger inside of her without warning and kissed the hollow of her collarbone at the same time, eliciting a surprised moan from her swollen lips. He smiled into her skin and trailed kisses down to her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. She groaned and he could tell, by the way she was responding and how wet she was when he added a second finger, that it wasn’t for show. He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to let go during sex and he sped up his fingers and added his thumb on her clit, grazing his teeth over her nipple before switching to the other one.
She closed her eyes and let her head lie back as she writhed under his touch. He wasn’t doing anything new to her, she’d had fingers inside of her and mouths on her breasts before, but he was touching her so exquisitely that every nerve was set on fire. She barely had time to let out a whimper before he did something fantastic with his fingers and she was crying out her release.
Mark decided, as he moved away from her breasts to watch her, that Addison in the throes of an orgasm was a beautiful thing. Her eyes closed, mouth open in soft ecstasy, and her hips involuntarily bucked up and he steadied them with his free hand. The red hair that, earlier in the evening, was straightened and styled to perfection now lay tangled around her. She nodded at him, breathing hard, after he gently let her come down, and he positioned himself over her.
“Do we need...?” he checked just in case, not wanting any surprises in a few weeks.
She shook her head. “I’m ...” she didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as he fluidly slid into her the moment he knew it was okay. He was a little bigger than she was used to, in an incredibly good amazing way, so it took her a bit longer than normal to get used to him but it was worth the wait. She opened her eyes and wriggled her hips with a smile, a soft gasp escaping her lips when he began to move inside of her.
Slowly at first, but he picked up speed once he noticed her meeting his thrusts. They easily found a rhythm together and moved in unison, both moaning loudly when Addison shifted herself under him and locked her legs around his back, pushing him deeper. He kissed her, almost bruisingly, and slipped a hand between them to play with her clit. His fingers had the desired effect and she broke the kiss, panting, and her muscles involuntarily tightened. It wasn’t much longer before he felt himself on the edge and he thrust into her harder, her noises of pleasure telling him he wasn’t hurting her, and he came with one final stroke, burying his face in her shoulder. She clenched around him tightly and came quickly after him, his warmth spreading inside of her sending her over.
He hovered over her for a few moments, watching as a hazy smile formed over her lips. He then flipped over her, lying next to her, deciding to let her tell him whether he was staying or whether there was cuddling involved. Addison rolled onto her stomach and lay partially on top of him, their skin sticking together. They caught their breath in silence and Mark wrapped his arms around her with a kiss on her forehead.
“That was really good,” she said after a while, laughing to herself.
Mark nodded in agreement, laughing with her. “Yeah, it was.” He paused and smirked. “Wanna do it again?”
She looked at him and laughed a little harder. “Mark, I don’t think I can move just yet.”
He smiled and smoothed out her hair. “I can wait.”