Shh
Title: Shh
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: I spent twenty minutes trying to concoct a summary that accurately represented the content of the story and came up with nothing because, actually, nothing normally worthy of summary-placement happens in this. It’s just a few hours in their life without context because, really, context is giving me a headache in every aspect of my life right now.
She sighs in relief, finally taking her contacts out at the end of a day that required keeping her eyes open for longer than she’d anticipated. If she’d anticipated it, she would’ve dropped a bottle of eye drops in her lab coat pocket but she hadn’t woken up at five-thirty anticipating that the next fifteen hours would be spent mostly in an OR requiring that her eyes be open most of the time. Unable to recall whether it’s time to throw them out or not, she decides that being unable to recall whether it’s time to throw them out or not means that it definitely is and she tosses the sandpaper-dry contacts into the small bathroom trash can and slips on her glasses. She sneaks a glance at the occupied shower, steam covering its glass walls and door, and briefly considers taking her glasses off again and joining him but one of the last things she wants right now is to have to get out of a hot shower so she picks up her toothbrush and uncaps the toothpaste.
With his finger, he writes a backward I love you on the glass wall and smiles, hoping she’ll turn and look over again. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward, allowing the hot water to pound out of their showerhead - one he thought to be too expensive for simply being a showerhead but he quickly discovered that it was worth it, and not just for the sake of his sore back - and onto his shoulders. Through the sound of the water, he hears the bathroom door close softly and he opens his eyes again and focuses on the small waterproof clock they’ve stuck on the shower wall. Deeming the day washed away as much as it’s going to wash away, he sighs: time to get out. “On three,” he says to himself and counts slowly to three and turns off the shower. He grins at the I love you, too written in the steam on the mirror and wraps a towel around his waist after rubbing it on his hair enough to keep it from dripping.
Glancing up from her book for a moment, she smiles at him as he walks out of the bathroom clad only in a towel with a rush of steam following him. She raises an appreciative eyebrow and rakes her eyes down his body, still shimmering with water droplets.
“Should I bother putting anything on?” He smirks, catching her staring at him.
Embarrassed, though she’s done and seen it before, she goes back to her book and pouts when he laughs quietly at her as he walks back to the bathroom in his boxers to turn off the fan and brush his teeth. Shivering a little in her silk pajama pants and cotton tank top (she’s always hated any tops that match the silk pants), she slips underneath the covers and flips onto her stomach, resting her book on her pillow.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispers and trails a pattern on her back with his fingers. He grins as she blinks herself awake and he plucks her glasses off her nose and sets them and her book on her nightstand.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she defends herself and waits for him to get settled before clicking off the light.
“Mmhm,” he says. “Just resting your eyes.” He kisses her pout and skims his fingers across the bare skin at her hips, testing what she’s interested in. Smiling into the kiss at her eager response of sweeping her tongue across his lips and into his mouth, he carefully rolls on top of her and cups her cheek with one hand while the other runs up and down her sides. She wiggles under him and he kisses across her jawline to her neck and slips his hand between her legs, cupping her through her pants. He knows from experience that she doesn’t wear underwear to bed so he brings his hand back up to help divest her of her shirt, prolonging the teasing before he actually slips his fingers into her.
She sighs happily as his tongue circles around a nipple and his fingers tease the other, feeling a familiar and welcome rush of heat between her legs. They have a pattern for making love at the end of the day, an unspoken ritual of who does what when (though the shower and the kitchen table have no such structure), but it never ceases feeling perfect and never feels boring. Her breath catches in her throat as the fingers that were rolling her nipple suddenly drag against her clit through the silk of her pajamas. He tickles her stomach when she pouts at his mouth moving away and she giggles and squirms until her laughter is silenced by his mouth on hers and two fingers moving inside of her.
He sucks on her bottom lip for a moment before abandoning her lips to slide down her body to place a kiss on her stomach and then push her pants down to be lost at the bottom of the bed and then, finally, spread her thighs and dip his tongue into her. She moans as his tongue touches her clit and his fingers curl up as he thrusts them in and out and he grins, able to hear her even under the blankets. He slows down his fingers and draws lazy designs on her clit with his tongue and waits until she’s squirming and he’s pretty sure she’s begging him to let her come. Never able to refuse any request of hers, he obliges with a quiet flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers.
Smiling her hazy thanks, she allows him a cocky wink before she kisses him deeply and awkwardly fumbles with his boxers, her orgasm wonderful but not enough. He settles himself between her legs, poised at her entrance and she pulls away just enough to smile crookedly and nod, always touched that he waits for her permission even though they’ve long passed the point of any hesitance on her part. Her lips open and she whimpers as they move in unison, moaning as she wraps her legs around his back to pull him deeper and he responds by thrusting harder, anticipating her needs, and slowly rubbing her clit.
She explodes before he does, moaning his name as she sees fireworks behind her eyelids and her body feels as though it’s on exquisite fire. Her muscles tighten around him and he comes with her, burying his head in her shoulder as he spills his release inside of her and feels it trigger another orgasm for her.
She opens her eyes first and laughs quietly, always giddy after sex, and runs her fingers through his now-dry hair. “Hi,” she says, biting her lip and smiling as he lifts his head to look at her.
“Hi,” he grins back and kisses her nose, tucking his arms around her and carefully rolling them over. He presses a kiss to her temple as she cuddles into his chest and he tugs up the blankets to cover her back, aware of how easily she gets cold. “Lunch tomorrow?” He asks quietly, running his hands through her red hair, hoping to see her more often than at the breakfasts and bedtimes this week has allowed them.
She laughs softly and turns her head, resting her chin on her hands folded flat on his chest. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Mark,” she points out.
“Really?”
“Mmhm,” she kisses his chest. “You can see me for the whole day if you want.”
“I would.”
She smiles for a moment. “Thought you might.” She gently kisses his lips before laying her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes. “I love you,” she whispers, her earlier unintended nap not enough to keep her awake for much longer.
He brushes a stray strand of hair off of her forehead and back around her ear. “Love you, too. Sweet dreams, Addie.”
Frou Frou :: Shh
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: I spent twenty minutes trying to concoct a summary that accurately represented the content of the story and came up with nothing because, actually, nothing normally worthy of summary-placement happens in this. It’s just a few hours in their life without context because, really, context is giving me a headache in every aspect of my life right now.
She sighs in relief, finally taking her contacts out at the end of a day that required keeping her eyes open for longer than she’d anticipated. If she’d anticipated it, she would’ve dropped a bottle of eye drops in her lab coat pocket but she hadn’t woken up at five-thirty anticipating that the next fifteen hours would be spent mostly in an OR requiring that her eyes be open most of the time. Unable to recall whether it’s time to throw them out or not, she decides that being unable to recall whether it’s time to throw them out or not means that it definitely is and she tosses the sandpaper-dry contacts into the small bathroom trash can and slips on her glasses. She sneaks a glance at the occupied shower, steam covering its glass walls and door, and briefly considers taking her glasses off again and joining him but one of the last things she wants right now is to have to get out of a hot shower so she picks up her toothbrush and uncaps the toothpaste.
With his finger, he writes a backward I love you on the glass wall and smiles, hoping she’ll turn and look over again. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward, allowing the hot water to pound out of their showerhead - one he thought to be too expensive for simply being a showerhead but he quickly discovered that it was worth it, and not just for the sake of his sore back - and onto his shoulders. Through the sound of the water, he hears the bathroom door close softly and he opens his eyes again and focuses on the small waterproof clock they’ve stuck on the shower wall. Deeming the day washed away as much as it’s going to wash away, he sighs: time to get out. “On three,” he says to himself and counts slowly to three and turns off the shower. He grins at the I love you, too written in the steam on the mirror and wraps a towel around his waist after rubbing it on his hair enough to keep it from dripping.
Glancing up from her book for a moment, she smiles at him as he walks out of the bathroom clad only in a towel with a rush of steam following him. She raises an appreciative eyebrow and rakes her eyes down his body, still shimmering with water droplets.
“Should I bother putting anything on?” He smirks, catching her staring at him.
Embarrassed, though she’s done and seen it before, she goes back to her book and pouts when he laughs quietly at her as he walks back to the bathroom in his boxers to turn off the fan and brush his teeth. Shivering a little in her silk pajama pants and cotton tank top (she’s always hated any tops that match the silk pants), she slips underneath the covers and flips onto her stomach, resting her book on her pillow.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispers and trails a pattern on her back with his fingers. He grins as she blinks herself awake and he plucks her glasses off her nose and sets them and her book on her nightstand.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she defends herself and waits for him to get settled before clicking off the light.
“Mmhm,” he says. “Just resting your eyes.” He kisses her pout and skims his fingers across the bare skin at her hips, testing what she’s interested in. Smiling into the kiss at her eager response of sweeping her tongue across his lips and into his mouth, he carefully rolls on top of her and cups her cheek with one hand while the other runs up and down her sides. She wiggles under him and he kisses across her jawline to her neck and slips his hand between her legs, cupping her through her pants. He knows from experience that she doesn’t wear underwear to bed so he brings his hand back up to help divest her of her shirt, prolonging the teasing before he actually slips his fingers into her.
She sighs happily as his tongue circles around a nipple and his fingers tease the other, feeling a familiar and welcome rush of heat between her legs. They have a pattern for making love at the end of the day, an unspoken ritual of who does what when (though the shower and the kitchen table have no such structure), but it never ceases feeling perfect and never feels boring. Her breath catches in her throat as the fingers that were rolling her nipple suddenly drag against her clit through the silk of her pajamas. He tickles her stomach when she pouts at his mouth moving away and she giggles and squirms until her laughter is silenced by his mouth on hers and two fingers moving inside of her.
He sucks on her bottom lip for a moment before abandoning her lips to slide down her body to place a kiss on her stomach and then push her pants down to be lost at the bottom of the bed and then, finally, spread her thighs and dip his tongue into her. She moans as his tongue touches her clit and his fingers curl up as he thrusts them in and out and he grins, able to hear her even under the blankets. He slows down his fingers and draws lazy designs on her clit with his tongue and waits until she’s squirming and he’s pretty sure she’s begging him to let her come. Never able to refuse any request of hers, he obliges with a quiet flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers.
Smiling her hazy thanks, she allows him a cocky wink before she kisses him deeply and awkwardly fumbles with his boxers, her orgasm wonderful but not enough. He settles himself between her legs, poised at her entrance and she pulls away just enough to smile crookedly and nod, always touched that he waits for her permission even though they’ve long passed the point of any hesitance on her part. Her lips open and she whimpers as they move in unison, moaning as she wraps her legs around his back to pull him deeper and he responds by thrusting harder, anticipating her needs, and slowly rubbing her clit.
She explodes before he does, moaning his name as she sees fireworks behind her eyelids and her body feels as though it’s on exquisite fire. Her muscles tighten around him and he comes with her, burying his head in her shoulder as he spills his release inside of her and feels it trigger another orgasm for her.
She opens her eyes first and laughs quietly, always giddy after sex, and runs her fingers through his now-dry hair. “Hi,” she says, biting her lip and smiling as he lifts his head to look at her.
“Hi,” he grins back and kisses her nose, tucking his arms around her and carefully rolling them over. He presses a kiss to her temple as she cuddles into his chest and he tugs up the blankets to cover her back, aware of how easily she gets cold. “Lunch tomorrow?” He asks quietly, running his hands through her red hair, hoping to see her more often than at the breakfasts and bedtimes this week has allowed them.
She laughs softly and turns her head, resting her chin on her hands folded flat on his chest. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Mark,” she points out.
“Really?”
“Mmhm,” she kisses his chest. “You can see me for the whole day if you want.”
“I would.”
She smiles for a moment. “Thought you might.” She gently kisses his lips before laying her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes. “I love you,” she whispers, her earlier unintended nap not enough to keep her awake for much longer.
He brushes a stray strand of hair off of her forehead and back around her ear. “Love you, too. Sweet dreams, Addie.”
Frou Frou :: Shh